


safest sounds

by spraycansoul



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Grad Kiss, Best Friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Model!Bitty, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pining, Slow Burn, super intense pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-04-30 16:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14501202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spraycansoul/pseuds/spraycansoul
Summary: It’s been roughly a year since Bitty flew across the country to California to pursue a modeling career.It’s been a rough year since Bitty flew across the country to California to pursue a modeling career.OR: The one where Bitty lives in LA and Jack lives in Providence and they're very good friends. Just friends, though.





	1. homesick

**Author's Note:**

> woo my first long-ish chaptered fic!! i'm nervous but also super stoked aahh let's rock and roll
> 
> title is from troye sivan's talk me down

 “Jack? I need you to talk me down.”

It’s 2:34 in the morning, and that’s probably why Jack balks at Bitty’s voice coming out of the tinny speakers of his cellphone. He doesn’t sound particularly distressed, but knowing Bitty for five years now means being aware of his tendency to downplay whatever he’s feeling, and if he’s calling at 2:34 in the morning, it’s probably something urgent. He’ll get so much shit for being tired at practice tomorrow. “Wait, what? Bittle, are you okay?”

Bitty breathes a laugh on the other side of the line. “I’m fine, Jack, I just— I’ve been marathoning Queer Eye all day and I have a shoot tomorrow and I need to just _stop_ already—”

“Bittle,” Jack says, captain voice on. “You need to sleep.” He just barely stops himself from sighing in relief at the fact that’s it’s just Netflix and not some bout of anxiety plaguing Bitty. “Seriously, go to bed.”

“I am in bed,” Bitty groans. “I just can’t stop watching. Antoni is just the cutest little thing and I’m _obsessed_ with Jonathan and—”

“Bitty,” Jack says softly. “Close the laptop. Now.”

He hears Bitty heave a sigh, followed by a soft click. “Okay. There.”

“Okay. Now close your eyes.”

“Mhmm.”

Jack settles into bed himself, tugging his sheets back up. “And I’m going to hang up now—”

“Wait!” 

Jack frowns, hands stilling on his chest. “What? What’s wrong?”

Bitty sighs again. “Nothing, it’s just…”

He trails off into silence and Jack has to pull his phone away from his ear to check if the call is still going. “Bittle?”

“Hey, yeah, sorry,” Bitty says. “It’s nothing. I just miss you.” He sighs again.

Jack feels a warmth bloom in his chest and can’t help but sigh, too. “Yeah. I miss you, too, Bits.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tugs at his hair a little. “But you really need to go to sleep.”

Bitty’s mid-yawn when he says, “Okay. Sorry, Jack. Love you.”

Jack says it back softly before clicking off and letting out a long breath. He closes his eyes and imagines dark brown ones.

 

-

 

It’s been roughly a year since Bitty flew across the country to California to pursue a modeling career.

It’s been a rough year since Bitty flew across the country to California to pursue a modeling career.

Jack never actually realized that was an option in the first place—Bitty was his best friend, after all, even over Shitty, and he thought he knew him enough to have a general idea of what he wanted his future to look like. It was probably silly and selfish for him to assume that Bitty would stick around the east coast, find a job in Boston or something to make some money, and eventually open his own bakery. Jack knew himself enough to admit that he would have loved to have Bitty close by. This was all until Bitty got an email from a very reputable modeling agency—coincidentally the very same one that first signed his mother, _what even is this life, really_ —and all his plans got flipped on their head.

“You should take it, definitely,” Jack had told Bitty when he broke the news to him, only months shy of his graduation. “It’s an amazing opportunity.” 

They were sitting at the bar in Jack’s kitchen in Providence during a long weekend, trading stories over cups of tea (Jack) and overly-sweetened coffee (Bitty). The rest of the guys had gone down to watch his home game against the Preds on Friday, but Bitty stayed with Jack for the remainder of the weekend, mostly to pack his freezer with pre-cooked meals. It had become sort of tradition since Jack graduated—Bitty spending weekends with Jack in Providence and, by extension, allowing the boys to wreak havoc in the Haus via increasingly rowdy kegsters without his mother-henning. All things considered, it really was a win-win situation.

Bitty hummed, peering from behind his huge mug of coffee that Jack kept safe (and chirp-ready) in one of his higher cupboards for whenever Bitty came over. “But… it’s so far away, Jack. I’ve never even _been_ to LA. What if I don’t like it?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna love it, and you know that’s not the issue.” He put his own mug down on the counter and waited until Bitty met his eyes. “What’s the real problem?”

Bitty seemed to contemplate this for a second. And then: “What if no one wants to eat my pie?”

“Bittle.”

“What if they can’t even _eat_ pie?”

Jack snorted. “C’mon, if I can eat your pie—”

 “What if _I_ can’t eat _my own pie_? How strict are model diets anyway? Do you think maybe you can ask your mom—” He stood up abruptly, cup of coffee forgotten on the counter and looking a little manic.

“Bittle!” Jack laughed, grabbing Bitty by the shoulders.

Bitty glanced at Jack sheepishly and bit his lip—a telltale sign that he’s contemplating telling Jack the truth. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled loudly, falling back into his stool. “I’m scared, okay? There. I said it,” he said, leveling Jack with a serious expression. “I don’t have anyone in LA, I’m gonna be all by myself and I’m leaving y’all over here, and it’s terrifying.”

Despite himself, Jack reached out to pull Bitty into a hug. Over the years, he’d come to terms with the fact that he was never really very good with words, but he’d discovered that usually he could comfort people with a decent warm hug. (Shitty and Lardo helped. A lot.) He felt Bitty sigh deeply before resting his cheek on his chest. Jack dropped his own cheek on top of Bitty’s head in answer.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Jack murmured into Bitty’s hair, rubbing Bitty’s back as he takes another deep breath. “And you know you’re gonna regret not taking this. Just think about it, eh?”

Bitty tightened his arms around Jack for a second before pulling away. “Thanks, Jack. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

Jack rolled his eyes and shot him a knowing smile. “You’re gonna do it,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

Bitty shrugged exaggeratedly, but Jack saw a flicker of doubt pass his features. “I mean, it’s still months ‘til I have to make the decision. I have time.”

 

-

 

The months go by faster than either of them can bear, and Jack was right.

Bitty closed out his last season as the openly gay captain of the NCAA Division 1 Champion team. Jack’s season was still going—first round of the playoffs—and he’d just barely been able to make Bitty’s graduation, driving up to Samwell straight from the arena after practice. He helped Bitty pack all his stuff up, with assistance from Suzanne and Coach, held him through his teary goodbye to the Haus and his room and Betsy II, and drove them all to Logan from which Bitty would fly out to LA with his parents, and Jack to Tampa Bay to hopefully close out the series in a sweep. 

Once Jack and Bitty had all of their luggage neatly piled onto carts, with Suzanne and Coach gone to get some coffee, Jack caught Bitty by the elbow. “What’s your gate?”

Bitty glanced down at his ticket. “A10.”

“Okay,” Jack nodded. He was ready for that. “That’s on the other side from where I’m boarding.” The rest of his team had already flown out earlier that day, and he had Bob’s jet waiting for him at Terminal E.

“Oh,” Bitty said, nodding too. “Okay, so.”

Jack exhaled sharply. “So. See you after playoffs?” he said, giving Bitty a small smile that he hoped didn’t betray the hope he felt in his fingers.

Bitty’s face cracked, his mouth falling into a frown. “Jack, I don’t think—”

“No, it’s just another month and a half. I’ll be there before you know it—”

“I don’t think you should come to LA,” Bitty said softly but firmly, looking down at his shoes.

Jack suddenly became acutely aware of his hand still gripping Bitty’s elbow. He let go abruptly, as if he’d been burned. “What?" 

Bitty finally met his eyes, and Jack had never seen them so desperate, so pleading. He watched Bitty swallow, steeling himself by crossing his arms before speaking. “I think I need some time to get used to it, you know? I don’t want y’all to think that you have to come out to see me just whenever I get homesick.”

 _Homesick._ Jack felt the word sink into his skin. He felt the argument brewing in his brain, but he tamped it down because he didn’t want to fight on the last time he’ll see his best friend for at least a few months. He wonders why it was never this intense with Shitty, but then again, Shitty only moved an hour away. Bitty was going to be on the other side of the country.

“I want to, Bits. I want to be there for you, and I can. You know I can,” he offered. 

“No,” Bitty said, and it felt final. “I would love for you to be there, really, Jack. But I think I need to do this alone.”

Jack looked straight into Bitty’s eyes and knew that there’s nothing he could say to change his mind. He nodded slowly. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” Bitty confirmed, his face softening a little. 

Jack felt Bitty’s eyes track over his own face, and knew he’d been doing the same. It hit him then that he didn’t know when he’ll see Bitty next anymore—the real Bitty at least, not a pixelated version of him on his phone or laptop. The realization was a lot more cerebral than he’d anticipated; like a fact that he’d just had to learn, a truth he has to accept. There was no ache in his chest, no fire in his scalp, but he knew that it shouldn’t be that surprising. Jack knew from experience that missing someone wasn’t a switch you could flick. 

Jack extended a fist solemnly, and Bitty bumped it, cracking a smile. Jack was about to tease him about how he’s finally earned the fist bumps when Bitty surged forward, wrapping his arms around Jack’s torso tightly. Jack got with the program quickly, arms coming up and around Bitty’s back. He was transported back to his own graduation day, when they’d hugged in the middle of the quad and it felt like the end of an era. He supposed it was, in a way, and so was that day.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Bitty said when they pulled away, swiping quickly at his eyes.

Jack fought the urge to chirp him, shrugging instead and giving him a tight smile. “I’m gonna miss you, too, Bittle.”

“I’ll tell you when the coast is clear to visit,” Bitty said. “I hear Ransom and Holster want to learn how to surf.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “We’re all still over here, Bittle. I mean, except for Chowder.” He frowned, and Bitty snickered. “That’s still seven to two. You’ll be the first to cave.” 

As Bitty laughed at his teasing, Jack saw Suzanne and Coach approaching with their coffees over Bitty’s shoulder, and Bitty turned around to follow his gaze. He said a quick goodbye to Bitty’s parents before Bitty pulled him for one last quick hug.

“I’ll call you,” Jack said as he gathered his own cart, hiked his duffel up on his shoulder, and started walking.

Bitty nodded, waving his phone at Jack. “Good luck!” he shouted, turning heads.

“You too!” Jack winked and shot him a smile one last time. 

Once he’d completely turned around, he huffed a sigh and started running.

 

-

 

It’s been barely a minute since Jack had gotten off of the phone with Bitty when he hears his phone vibrating on his bedside table again. Jack groans into his pillow and lets it ring for a few seconds before picking it up and taking the call.

“Bittle, go to sleep,” he says exasperatedly, face still smushed into his pillow.

“I lied,” Bitty says. “I wasn’t watching Queer Eye.”

God, it’s too late (early?) for this and Jack has practice in the morning. He’s starting to really resent the three-hour time difference. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I was, and also I _do_ miss you, but that’s not why I couldn’t sleep.” Jack hears some rustling and imagines Bitty curling into Señor Bun.

“Pray tell, Bittle, so that _I_ can go to sleep,” Jack says, closing his eyes.

“I—I met someone.”

Jack’s eyes fly open and he sits up, interest piqued. “O... kay?” he says carefully, afraid of what’s coming next and not quite sure why.

“Okay, I didn’t really meet him-meet him. It’s more like I re-met him?” Jack… doesn’t really know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. “He went to Samwell too, graduated with the frogs in May and came to LA. He’s fixin’ to be an actor or something. Apparently, we met at some kegster that Ransom and Holster threw and we’re already Facebook friends and everything, so he messaged me the other day asking if I wanted to meet up somewhere.”

“And did you?” Jack prods, genuinely interested but just a little too drowsy for it. 

“Well, it would’a been rude of me to say no when I had no good reason!” Bitty says, and Jack laughs at how _Bitty_ that is. “So we went to get some coffee and I can’t believe I forgot this boy because he’s so darn cute? Like, how could I forget that I met him?”

“Huh,” Jack offers, ignoring the tightening feeling in his chest and settling back onto his pillow. “So you have a crush on this guy?”

Bitty scoffs. “After meeting him _one time?_ ” 

“Two times,” Jack chirps.

“Don’t sass me, Jack Zimmermann. I don’t have a crush on Charlie Kincaid.”

Jack files the name away for future reference, but keeps his focus on the task at hand, which is to get Bitty off the phone and himself to sleep. “Then why are you calling me at—” Jack pulls away from his phone to check the time, and _Christ, its—_ “2:44 in the morning to talk about him?”

Bitty groans loudly. “I don’t know! We really hit it off and we talked for hours yesterday and I know he probably just wanted to see a familiar face after moving somewhere new but I can’t stop thinking about his stupid face and how he freakin’ _seenzoned me_ two hours ago!” 

Jack rolls over so he’s lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He quickly puts the call on speaker. “Maybe you should, I don’t know, just play it cool first? No harm in being friends first, eh?” He can’t believe he’s actually giving advice about a crush. He can’t believe he’s giving advice about a crush to _Bitty_ , who can get anyone he wants if he wanted them enough. 

“Yeah, probably,” Bitty agrees. “But I think this could really _be_ something, you know? He’s in the exact same position I was a year ago, and I know I could have used someone to talk to then.”

Just as Jack’s about to defend himself and say that Bitty hadn’t wanted him to fly out to LA and refused to answer Chowder’s calls when he wanted to take Bitty around town, Bitty continues, “And I know I still have you, and Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster and everyone, but… I just feel like I left everyone out on the East Coast and I need to find my people here, y’know?”

“Yeah, Bits. I get that.” Jack feels his eyes drooping further and further, but he’s mostly accepted that he’s probably not going to be able to sleep for at least another half hour. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But you have Angela, Miggy and Pat, right? Aren’t you guys close?”

On the other side of the line, Bitty sighs too. “It’s not the same,” he whines. “It still feels… I don’t know, unnatural? Inorganic?”

“Inorganic,” Jack repeats with a snort.

“IT’S A WORD,” Bitty says so defensively, Jack thinks he can hear him rolling his eyes. 

Jack laughs softly. “It’s okay, I believe you,” he says, meaning it both ways. “You’ll get there, though. Remember how long it took with me?”

“Oh, _honey_ ,” Bitty cries. “Took me a whole year to melt your whole ice prince facade away! Lord only knows if I can take another year of thawing." 

“Ha-ha,” Jack says dryly when he’s unable to come up with a decent chirp back.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a bit, listening to each other breathe, and Jack feels his eyes slide shut on their own accord. 

“Jack?” Bitty calls out tentatively after a minute. 

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you.” Bitty says it quietly, almost a whisper.

“Any time.” Jack says it like a promise.

“I’m going to sleep for real now.” Bitty yawns. “’Night. Love you.”

“You too, Bits,” Jack says. He ignores the warmth crawling up his fingers, as he always does when he hears those words from Bitty. 

Bitty, his best friend. His best friend, the model, who lives on the other side of the country. Bitty, whose haphazard parting _love you_ ’s and _I miss you_ ’s have been triggering pains in Jack’s chest for the past few months. Whose eyes are beautifully wide and words are beautifully round and who deserves only the best that this world has to offer.

Bitty, who has a crush on a guy that he talked to for hours yesterday. Who had never called him about a boy until this morning, which means this is a real thing, different from the other times he’d casually mention his infrequent dating life. Who could quite possibly have a boyfriend at the end of this—one that’s not Jack.

His best friend.

_Shit._

His eyes are shut, but he doesn’t sleep for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO that’s a thing that happened. 
> 
> some holes to fill:
> 
> \- there’s a LOT OF SIGHING I KNOW IM SORRY
> 
> \- jack and bitty got a lot closer bitty’s junior and senior years—think year 3 minus the relationship. jack still saw bitty more often than shitty, but the numbers are not too far apart. although he considers shitty as his oldest and closest and most ride-or-die friend, he’d started becoming a little more vulnerable with bitty because (1) bitty’s easy to talk to and (2) shitty’s at law school and despite how much he complains about it, jack knows it’s important to him so he mostly lets him focus on school and goes to bitty with things that he thinks shitty might not be able handle 
> 
> \- i put the falcs in the atlantic division because why not? jk i stared at the map of the east coast for five minutes arguing with myself about where i wanted jack to fly out to. i was gonna do leafs until i remembered that i love the leafs so… tampa it was. 
> 
> \- also lol IDK ANYTHING ABOUT LOGAN I HAVE NEVER BEEN TO YOUR COUNTRY AND EVERYTHING I COULDN’T FIND ON THE VIRTUAL MAP I JUST MADE UP
> 
> anyway thanks for reading!! updates... will be irregular for now but i have the story mapped out completely! would love to hear your thoughts still hmu @ zimmerhomme on tumblr!


	2. jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super huge thank you to [@notenoughgatorade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughgatorade) for helping me out with this chapter!! <33

Jack’s life, as it does when he is completely unmoored by a sudden overwhelming epiphany, goes on.

He doesn’t let the said unmooring epiphany take over his life, because there’s nothing he can do about it anyway. He’d spent the night (or early morning) after the call rationalizing his own feelings to hell and back, only to return to the same conclusion: nothing can ever happen between them. Bitty is all the way across the country, and he’s Jack’s best friend. They’re both public figures now, which means their time together would probably be compromised anyway, and, as recent developments have it, Bitty is interested in someone else. Ultimately, he’s not sure that losing Bitty completely is worth the risk of a long-distance relationship.

Besides, they already have a long-distance relationship.

It’s called friendship.

“So, how’s Charlie?” Jack asks idly, because he’s a masochistic fuckwit, but also a good friend. It’s a Tuesday morning and he’s fixing his breakfast with his laptop propped open on the counter. Bitty’s just come back from a jog, and he looks—well, he looks the same as he always does after a jog. He’s flushed and glistening and—God, Jack really needs to get a hold of himself. He briefly remembers Bitty’s lamentations about missing Charlie’s “cuteness” and wonders how the hell he’d been so blind all these years.

“Wait, really?” Bitty sounds surprised, so Jack turns around from the fridge to look at him on his laptop. He’s just in time to see Bitty lifting his shirt to wipe at his forehead. This whole modeling thing must really be working out for him. _Crisse._ “You’re really asking?”

Jack frowns, pointedly ignoring the swoop in his gut. “What do you mean, am I really asking? You’re the one always talking about him!”

“Yeah, but I just figured you might be tired of hearing about him,” Bitty says. “It’s your turn to talk!”

The thing was, Jack was a little tired of hearing about him. Yesterday, Bitty had counted off every single detail from his excursion with Charlie the other day to watch a movie, including Charlie’s outfit, his comments throughout the movie, and what they talked about after. It’s slightly off-putting but also a little endearing, how much Bitty notices about people. About Charlie, in particular.

“But I _did_ talk,” Jack says, walking over to the sink to rinse his greens for his salad. “I told you about Snowy’s new girl, right?” He winces at how lame that sounds compared to all the stories Bitty’s been sharing, thankful that he has his back turned to the camera. “Besides, my life is boring. Yours is much more interesting.”

Bitty laughs as Jack leans on the counter, setting the greens aside. “It’s boring ‘cause you lock yourself up in that gorgeous apartment of yours all day! When was the last time you went out with your teammates just for fun?”

“Huh.” Jack has to actually think about that before answering. Bitty laughs at the face he unconsciously pulls. “Okay, fine. You got me. It’s been a while,” he admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Last month, maybe?”

“And what time did you go home, hm?” Bitty cocks an eyebrow at him.

Jack waggles his eyebrows jokingly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Bitty laughs in shock and throws a pillow at his laptop. “Jack!”

“I’m just kidding, Bittle,” he says, enjoying the sight of Bitty so carefree. “I went home at 10. I’m old, okay? Get off my back about it already.”

“Okay, okay,” Bitty says, finally calming down. “But I’m serious! You need to get out more, old man. Time’s a-tickin’!” He wags a finger at the camera menacingly. “Tell Tater if he gets you to go out with them, I’m sending him three jars of blueberry jam.”

Jack shakes his head, smiling. “Nate will have your head if you send Tater any more jam,” he says seriously.

“He’ll have to come and catch me then, won’t he?” Bitty says, spreading his hands with a grin.

It sounds like an invitation, almost, but Jack knows not to bite. He’s about to say some lame wisecrack about needing a magnifying glass to find him when he hears his phone beep next to him.

“Practice?” Bitty asks, taking the opportunity to check his phone, too.

“Meeting,” Jack says. “I set up an appointment with George today.”

“Yeah? Is everything alright?” Bitty puts his phone down and looks at Jack with a concerned expression.

Jack contemplates telling Bitty what he has under wraps—the NDAs, the contingencies, plans A through G—but his phone sounds again. “Yeah, I’ll tell you later. I gotta go, Bits,” he says, shooting him an apologetic smile through his webcam.

“’Kay,” Bitty says, wiggling his fingers at Jack. “Have fun!”

“Bye, Bits,” Jack says, before closing his laptop. He bites his tongue on the phrase that they tell each other too often but somehow not enough.

 _Friendship_ , he reminds himself. He can do friendship. He's been doing it for years.

 

-

 

Jack is busy enough, thankfully, to not have the earth-shattering revelation take over his life.

He has hockey to worry about, of course he does, even in the off season. He’s been training vigorously, using their second round exit last season as motivation, but more importantly, he’s been in close coordination with Georgia and Katie, head of the Falcs’ PR Department. It’s been weeks since he came out to his team, months since coming out to George, and everything has been…good. So much better than he had ever let himself hope, actually. He’s freer around his teammates, doesn’t feel like he needs to hold himself off so much anymore, and his teammates have really been taking everything in stride. They’re in good shape this season, and his team values and respects him, and really, if Jack had known that his coming out would start this trend of team camaraderie, he probably would have done it sooner. His eighteen-year-old self must be rolling in his hospital bed.

His coming out process had started out in a way that did not involve his control. With Kent, the topic of his sexuality was exclusively discussed in kisses and touches. He barely had time to come to terms with it himself before he was letting Kent in, and eventually the hiding and drinking and _not talking about it_ saw him sprawled across the cold, hard tile of his en suite, just hours shy of the biggest day of his life.

With his parents, it was almost the same thing: acceptance, but also deflection. They’d seen him with Kent and, when he’d finally gathered enough courage to tell them outright, they had hardly let him explain himself before they were hugging him and reassuring him that they loved him all the same. It was undeniable proof that he had his parents’ support through anything, and while that was a huge weight off his shoulders—especially considering who his father was—he’d wished they’d allowed him to talk it through. He was too awkward to ever broach the topic again, beyond their light teasing about every single one of his friends _ever_ , and nothing was wrong per se, so he decided to leave it.

And then he came out to his therapist, who finally _listened_ to him and then proceeded to tell him everything he now knew in retrospect, and then to Shitty, who leaped onto him (a feat, considering they were both lounging on a single) and called him a list of profane iterations of “motherfucking gorgeous specimen of a best friend” and, in so many words, expressed how proud he was of him.

After that, Jack had decided he wanted to take charge of his story, because it was his to tell, anyway, and he’d one by one started going down the line of the most important people in his life, starting with Bitty.

“Lord almighty, that Chris Evans is something else,” Bitty said, that one time he’d dragged Jack to the cinema to watch _Captain America: Civil War_.

Jack had been a little dazed and a lot overwhelmed, having just been introduced to the Marvel Cinematic Universe and its (unfairly attractive) heroes. “Yeah, he’s really hot,” he’d agreed offhandedly.

Bitty stopped walking so abruptly that Jack bumped into him. He let out a small nervous laugh. “No homo, though,” he said, bro-ing out his accent.

“Oh.” It was only then that Jack realized two things: first, his slip of the tongue, and second, the golden opportunity to come out to Bitty in a casual, no-big-deal kind of way. He’d originally come up with this crazy, convoluted plan of conversation topics to be able to somehow direct it to his sexuality, but thinking that this was probably easier, he quickly abandoned his strategy. “I mean, why not homo, eh?”

He watched Bitty’s eyes and mouth round out and was not prepared when Bitty started whacking him on his arm with his empty water bottle, shouting in disbelief. He was even less prepared when Bitty suddenly pulled him into a hug and started saying things that Shitty would probably say if he were more PG.

After that, it was Lardo, Ransom, Holster, and then George, Tater, Marty, and Thirdy, and maybe it was his crazy good track record or the unexpected boost of support coming from the Falcs upper management, but Jack had started to become used to the idea that people might actually be okay with him being bisexual.

So, yes, he’s in the process of coming out publicly. Jack had decided after one Stanley Cup, a Calder, an Art Ross, and a Rocket Richard, he really doesn’t have anything left to prove to anyone—not even himself.

“And you’re sure you’re not seeing anyone?” Georgia prods, leaning forward on her desk and raising a quizzical eyebrow at Jack.

He shoots her a withering look—they’d been through this before. “Yes, last I checked,” he affirms, nodding for full effect. “I don’t need a reason other than I’m ready, George.”

“I’m just making sure,” she says, raising her palms up in surrender. “You just seemed a little keyed up today. Is everything alright?”

 _No, it’s not. I just realized I’m in love with my best friend who likes someone else and there’s nothing I can do about it, but thanks for asking._ “Yeah, just… nervous, I guess. It just feels like everything became real today.” Georgia had presented him with PR’s final proposed Plan A, which Jack had to admit was very thorough and well-planned, even down to the smallest details—possible timestamps included. Of course, Jack wished his coming out didn’t have to be this huge deal, but PR insisted it would be easiest to “control the narrative” if the statement was clear, concise, and directly from him.

Georgia gives him a comforting smile. “It’s not for another few months, Jack. And, if I may be so bold to say, there’s no one better suited for this than you.”

It’s a startling statement, even after all the therapy sessions and Shitty love-fests. Jack instinctively ducks his head, but it makes him feel a lot lighter, especially hearing it from his GM. “Thanks, boss,” he says. “That means a lot.”

Georgia winks at him. “Now get out of my office. I hear Tater’s waiting for you in the nook,” she says slyly.

Jack narrows his eyes at her as he picks his duffle up. “You don’t sound suspicious at all,” he says, slowly backing out of the office.

The nook’s name is actually quite the misnomer, with its tall windows and spacious floor plan. It’s Jack’s favorite place in their practice facility, if he’s being honest—it reminds him a lot of his apartment and a little bit of Faber—and when he’s not out on the ice or in the locker room, he usually finds himself here. Back when Bitty was still at Samwell, this was the room that reminded him of the Haus, too, when he’d walk in to smell whatever pie Bitty had left in his freezer for sharing, and to find his teammates in various states of disarray over their delectability.

True to form, he finds Tater outright demolishing a plate of spaghetti in the centermost table. Snowy and Marty are off in the corner, discussing what looks to be a serious matter, but they seem to be the only ones present at the moment.

“Zimmboni!” he says, waving his fork in the air. “You get my secret message!”

Jack rolls his eyes. “What part of that was supposed to be a secret, exactly?” he asks, pulling the chair across from him.

“The part where Bitty call me to take you out for send more jam,” Tater replies happily, shoveling another forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. “You come with me and rest of the guys tonight! We eat, drink, and be drunk!”

Bitty was a goddamn traitor and Jack was going to get him back for this. “You’re not going to let up, are you?” he says instead of outright declining, like he very much wants to.

“Nope!” Tater declares. “B’s jam is best jam,” he says, suddenly solemn. “I’m a little bit miss him, you know? The nook don’t smell the same. You miss him, too?”

Jack sighs, lifting his cap to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he says, trying to keep a mostly neutral tone. “I miss him, too.”

Tater nods knowingly. “Is hard, you know? Being away from friends, family,” he says, and _shit_ , he hadn’t realized Tater has been dealing with almost the same thing for years. “But it makes talking and seeing them more special, no? How the phrase go—absence makes the heart grow taller?”

“Fonder,” Jack supplies with a laugh. “Yeah, that’s true,” he says, watching Tater carefully. “Hey, you know you can talk to me, right? If you ever need anything?” He knows what it’s like to be the fish out of water, and even though Tater’s been here longer than he has and is leagues more outgoing that him, it can be a little hard to ask for help sometimes. Jack just wants to make sure that he gives back the same support that Tater’s been giving him ever since he’d first stepped into the facility.

Tater looks up from his spaghetti to regard Jack with a smile. “Thank you, Zimmboni,” he says. “You are good friend, but I am okay. Just… feel a little sick for home sometimes.”

Jack nods, makes a mental note to do something nice for Tater sometime, and then realizes the opportunity in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut, because it’s not something he particularly wants to do, but it ticks two things off his list, and Jack is a practical man.

Tater seems to be oblivious to his struggle, because he only looks back up when Jack clears his throat. “Hey, tell you what,” he says. “You can tell Bitty I green-lighted the jam. What’s the plan tonight?”

He watches Tater’s face split into a grin that is entirely too self-satisfied, and fears a little for himself.

 

-

 

It’s early the next morning when Jack arrives at his own apartment, pleasantly buzzed and too keyed up from the night to go straight to sleep. He slumps down on his couch, fishes his phone out of his pocket and messages Bitty.

**2:04 AM**

Hey.

Thanks for telling Tater to drag me out of the house.

 _[Picture attached: Tater taking a selfie of their group in the bar,_ _  
_ _all of them holding up their beers in increasingly ridiculous ways]_

I had fun.

!!!!!!!!

you’re all grown up (Crying Face ) i’m so proud

you’re welcome!! tell tater enjoy his jam (Hugging Face )(Dancer ) (Beating Heart )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- yes, that was a nod to PorcupineGirl’s amazing fic appropriately titled Jack Zimmermann is a Masochistic Fuckwit, which you should definitely read if you haven’t
> 
> \- the playlist! there’s a playlist i forgot to put it with the earlier chapter but here it is now (clicky)
> 
> \- as always i'd love to hear what you thought in the comments!! or on tumblr hmu i'm @zimmerhomme!!


	3. tag

**Wed, 8 August, 10:08 AM**

jack!!

you free?

can i call?

 _You missed a call from Bits._ _  
_ _Call Back._

**2:29 PM**

Sorry, Bits. I’m free now  
if you still want to talk?

**9:34 PM**

sorry aahh i was at a shoot (Loudly Crying Face )(Loudly Crying Face )(Loudly Crying Face )

are u busy now??

**Thurs, 9 August, 6:18 AM**

Sorry. Turned in early :-(

Gonna hit the gym with my  
dad. Later this morning?

8:30 my time?

oh honey

i’ve got a shift til 12 (Face With Cold Sweat )(Weary Face )

tell bob i say hi!!

tonight??

**7:02 PM**

Bits?

**Today, 3:43 PM**

shit im so so so so sorry T_T

i’ll set an alarm i swear! tonight  
forreals!!!

 

-

 

 

Jack and Bitty play phone tag, minus the catching each other part.

It starts out just a few days, and then it’s a week, and then suddenly, it’s been a month since they’d last called.

Bitty started getting busy at the start of summer—he’d landed an H&M campaign after a brief stint for Aeropostale, and that required a string of shoots and some other promotional stuff in between. Jack infers from the brief texts he gets from Bitty stating the different reasons he can’t call that (1) he’d gotten a job at a local bakery to make some extra money and to have an excuse to keep baking, probably, (2) he’d immersed himself in various forms of exercise, including ballet and yoga, which does wonders for Jack’s imagination, and (3) he has regular hang-outs with Charlie. He figures the busy streak has to break sometime and Bitty should finally be able to set aside some time to catch up, so he waits patiently and doesn’t push.

In the meantime, Jack goes home to Montreal for two weeks, lugging Shitty along with him. Bob and Alicia are delighted by his presence, and Shitty very nearly burst into tears when Bob had reflexively called him “son”.

He’d forgotten how Shitty could be a relentless glowing ball of energy when he wanted to be, and if Jack was being honest, he really missed having him around. They go hiking and traipsing around the older parts of town and playing video games in Bob’s absurdly large viewing room. They trade stories, Jack about his team and Shitty about law school, one-upping each other with ridiculous anecdotes. It really feels like old times. Like the Haus.

It feels like home.

Their bonding keeps him busy enough to not realize the length of time he’d gone without talking to Bitty until it’s been too long, longer than they’d gone without a phone call since Jack’s season ended. The recent thread of messages on his phone serves as hard evidence.

“Jack.”

Shitty’s voice snaps him out of staring at Bitty’s new messages. “Hm?”

It’s mid-afternoon and Shitty had finally humored Jack’s requests of getting some skating in at Bob’s backyard indoor ice rink. Jack had always loved the building, with its high beams and bright lights, and if there was one perk of having a hockey legend as your father, the rink would probably be it. Jack had grown up finding his feet on this ice, and this was the place where he found his first love.

“You okay?” Shitty looks at him with concern, an expression Jack remembers well from his college days.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m great,” he says idly, still looking down at his phone. “Bitty texted.”

“Fuck!” Jack looks up to see Shitty’s face visibly brighten as he skates towards him from the opposite side of the rink. “How is America’s next fuckin’ top model doing in sunny Los Angeles?”

Jack shrugs, tossing his phone back onto his duffel on the bench and slipping his glove on. “I don’t know, Shits. We haven’t really talked in a while.”

“Haha, yeah, right.” Shitty laughs, pulling his helmet off and shaking his hair out.

Jack frowns. “No, really.”

“Wait.” Shitty bumps into him lightly as he stops. “Really?

Jack shoves him away jokingly. “Yeah, man. He’s really busy out there.” He skates away a little bit, and then adds, “I’ve been busy, too.”

“Busy is good, though, right?” Shitty says, stretching for a bottle of water behind the boards. “Means he’s getting a lot of work? That’s fucking awesome, brah!”

“It is,” Jack agrees. “I’m happy for him. He loves it.” He says it more sincerely than he means to, and Shitty’s known him long enough to notice.

“We all miss him, man,” Shitty says after what seems like careful consideration. He leans back on the boards and looks at Jack. “Lardo was just saying that we should all plan a trip out there to surprise him. He’s gonna cry his goddamn eyes out, that li’l fucker—”

“He said no visits, Shits,” Jack reminds him and himself. “Still no green light.”

“I know, man,” Shitty groans, throwing the water bottle at Jack, who catches it easily. “Last time we talked, he said he was just really starting to _get_ the place. I know it’s different shit out there, and I don’t wanna fuck that up for him,” he says, shrugging slightly, “but sometimes it feels like he’s kind of shutting us out, you know? Even Rans and Holtzy have a hard time getting to him.”

Jack watches Shitty as he takes a swig of water. “It’s just for now, man,” he says. “We’ll see him soon, probably. He says he misses us a lot, too.” He skates by Shitty to squirt some water at his face before chucking the bottle behind the boards and sprinting towards the far net.

Shitty sputters before bolting after Jack. “Zimmermann, you fucking assbutt!” he yells, colliding with Jack and checking him roughly into the boards, laughing.

Jack laughs, elbowing Shitty. “Maybe you need more protein too, man,” he chirps. “Barely felt ‘ya!”

“Oh _, I’m_ sorry, Zdeno Chara,” Shitty says sardonically, eyes widening in mock offense. “We can’t all be fucking professional athletes in this world!”

Jack chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You’re going to be a fucking lawyer man. And married,” he winks, setting them off on another fit of laughter. “It’s about time, too,” he says. Shitty and Lardo had been together since the beginning of Lardo’s senior year, when Shitty finally got his head out of his ass enough to tell her the truth.

Shitty shakes a hand through his hair, smiling. “It’s fucking crazy, bro,” he says with the same starry-eyed look he gets when he talks about his fiancée. “What about you, huh? Any deets to share with your old man?” He waggles his eyebrows at Jack suggestively.

Jack rolls his eyes. “Oh, because I tell my old man everything,” he deadpans, skating away to retrieve a puck.

“Come on, Jacky! There’s gotta be _some_ one,” Shitty ribs. “I know your pining face. It’s been on for half this trip.”

Jack frowns at that comment, wondering what it could mean, but it makes him think about telling Shitty what’s been bugging him for the past month and a half as he glides back to the goal. “Tell you what,” he says, keeping a neutral expression.

“What?” Shitty echoes excitedly, like he always does.

“If you win this next round, I’ll tell you.”

Shitty wails loudly, collapsing onto Jack. “You’re never gonna tell me!”

 

-

 

Later, when they’re parked in front of Bob’s 110-inch monstrosity of a TV with a bunch of snacks that Jack’s trainer will murder him for consuming, Jack tells Shitty anyway.

“So,” he says eloquently, as their video game boots.

Shitty glances at him from the popcorn machine in the back corner. “Yes, Jackabelle?”

“I’m coming out at the end of the season.” Jack exhales loudly, gripping the armrest of his recliner. “Publicly.”

Jack hears a small squeak from the corner of the room, followed by the slam of the popcorn machine door. He turns around just in time to see Shitty vault over the furthest row of chairs. “Are you fucking with me right now? No _fucking_ way!” Jack laughs as Shitty lands on the recliner next to him, grabs his left shoulder, and starts shaking him vigorously. “I’m so goddamn proud of you! You beautiful fearless motherfucker, you!”

“Hey, hey, watch the arm!” Jack protests with no heat in his tone.

Shitty foregoes the shoulder shaking to leap onto Jack’s lap and smother him in a full-body hug. “You’re a little fucking amazing, you know that, Jacky?”

Jack relaxes into the hug, slapping Shitty’s back gently. “Thanks to you, man, I can never forget,” he says sincerely, before shoving Shitty back onto his own recliner. “I… could never have done it without you, probably. _You_ know _that_ , right?”

Shitty mimes wiping tears from his eyes— _Shit, those might actually be real tears,_ Jack thinks—and clutches his chest with a huge grin, looking over at Jack. “You deserve to be happy, man. I’m so fucking proud to be your friend.”

Jack feels a glow in his chest, something light and lovely, and not for the first time, he thanks the universe for giving him a friend like Shitty. “Thanks, man. I’m really excited.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before Shitty sighs contentedly, reaching across Jack to grab a controller. “So, is that the reason for the piney face? You’re just excited to get it done?”

Jack bites his lip and sets his controller down to look at Shitty properly. “No, actually.”

Shitty sits up abruptly and fully faces Jack. “Wait—say that again?”

“No, actually?” Jack repeats slowly.

“That’s what I thought you said!” Shitty exclaims in disbelief. “So there _is_ a someone! Dude, you know, I was kind of starting to second guess myself with the pining thing. So who is it?”

Jack scrunches his nose. “I’m…kind of hesitant to tell you now,” he admits, grabbing his controller and refocusing his eyes on the huge screen.

“Jaaaaaaaack,” Shitty whines. “Wait, shit, is it someone I know?” he says suddenly, hair whipping as he looks at Jack abruptly. “Oh my _god_ , is it Bitty?”

Jack tamps down his shock to keep a straight face, but he feels his blood rush up to his cheeks. “Wait, what the fuck—why would it be Bitty?” he says, not risking a glance at Shitty.

“So it’s _not_ Bitty?” Shitty prods, grinning like a maniac and pointing at Jack with his controller.

Jack sighs loudly and drags a hand down his face. He hears Shitty let out a squeal that is far too gleeful before he sets his controller down, faces Shitty, and says, “It’s Bitty.”

“ _Holy shit_ !” Shitty literally jumps out of his chair and runs all the way across the room. “Holy fucking shit! This is too good! It’s like Christmas! Are you gonna tell him?” he rambles on excitedly, eyes wide. “Holy _fuck_ , that’s awesome!”

“No, Shits, nothing can ever happen,” Jack says immediately. He fiddles with his controller to keep his hands occupied. “He lives all the way across the country.”

Shitty deflates a little, but pads back to his recliner still smiling. “Yeah, so? It’s a six-hour plane ride, and you, my friend, are fucking loaded.” He gestures to the huge TV screen in front of them.

“First of all, that’s my dad’s,” Jack says, giving Shitty a sidelong glance, “and second, he likes someone else.”

That effectively gets Shitty to shut up for a second, his face morphing into concern. He lets out a low whistle. “Shit, Jack. That really sucks.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees quietly.

“Hence, the pining face,” Shitty says solemnly, nodding in understanding.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jack laughs bitterly. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s not even a real problem. I’m sure it’ll blow over,” he says, but even to his own ears, it sounds like a long shot.

He feels Shitty studying his profile carefully. “You liking him or him liking someone else?”

“Whichever comes first,” Jack shrugs. He’d never bothered with a plan, really, because he knows it would be futile and his anxiety can’t handle that kind of stress. He’s almost accepted that he’ll always be at least a little bit in love with his best friend, and all things considered, that’s probably better than not having his best friend at all.

Shitty sighs loudly, and Jack’s grateful he’s able to take the hint. “Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“You deserve to be happy, yeah?” Shitty gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Jack shoots him a tight-lipped smile, quirking his eyebrows in confirmation. “I am,” Jack says. He finally starts the game and spends the duration of it trying to convince himself that he is.

 

-

 

At exactly 10:00 pm, just as Jack’s about to set his phone down on his bedside table to go to sleep, it vibrates in his hands with Bitty’s face flashing onscreen.

Jack swipes quickly to accept the call, pulling it up to his ear. “Fucking finally,” he says in lieu of a hello. “Thought you might be beginning to get too good for you friends over there.”

Bitty’s bright laugh rings in his ear. “I am _so_ sorry, okay! But shut up already, I have news!”

Jack shifts on his bed so that his phone is sandwiched between his head and his pillow. “What’s the news?”

“I’mgoingtoNewYorkFashionWeek!” Bitty breathes and lets out a dazed little laugh, like he still can’t believe it. “Jack, I’m _going to walk in New York Fashion Week_!”

Jack feels a rush of excitement for Bitty, and a swell of pride inflates his chest. “That’s crazy! Congratulations!” he says, trying to squeeze as much enthusiasm into his voice as he can when he’s right about to pass out. “Bits, I’m so proud of you,” he says, hoping that his smile translates in his voice.

“Thanks, Jack. I’m proud of me, too,” Bitty admits, and Jack can just see him biting his lip as he says it. “So, I’ll see you in a few months, huh?”

And that—that didn’t even occur to Jack. That Bitty would be in the East Coast again, roughly three hours away from him, and the realization sets his chest off again in a slightly different way. “Oh, boy. For sure,” Jack tells Bitty. “September, right? You can catch a pre-season game, probably.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, why do you know when NYFW is?” Bitty says suspiciously.

Jack rolls his eyes, even though he knows Bitty can’t see. “You forget that my mom was a—”

“Oh my god, I totally forgot your mom was an international supermodel,” Bitty laments.

Jack laughs. “I miss you,” he says, because he really, really does.

On the other side of the line, Bitty sighs. “I miss you, too,” he says quietly. “I’m _so_ sorry. These past few weeks have been kinda nuts. All work and work _outs_ and photo shoots—even Charlie’s been complaining that he never sees me anymore, which is hilarious because he’s busy all the time, too…” Bitty starts rambling about his life, confirming that _yes,_ he does have a job at a local bakery, and _yes_ , he had started doing ballet again but can’t stay still enough for yoga so that was out. Jack closes his eyes and enjoys the cadence of Bitty’s speech, because he’s just realized how much he missed hearing him talk.

Later, when Bitty’s rambling starts to drift off, Jack finally asks what he’s been dying to know. “So are you and Charlie…?”

Bitty lets out a startled laugh. “Oh, no. No, we’re just friends. Getting there, though. I mean, I hope so, at least,” Bitty says. “I really like him, Jack. Shit, I really like him.”

 _He’s an idiot,_ Jack wants to say. “So why aren’t you together?” he says instead, mentally punching himself for putting himself through this unnecessary punishment.

Bitty sighs. “I don’t know, really. We had this really amazing conversation the other day about, like, the top five most important people in our lives. We were hanging out by the boardwalk with some ice cream. I said you were my top two, actually, and he was like, ‘Holy shit, you’re best friends with Jack Zimmermann?’ and I was like, ‘What is _that_ supposed to mean?’” Bitty laughs, so Jack does too, even though his mind has latched on to ‘ _top two’_ and apparently won’t let go.

“Anyway,” Bitty continues, “Turns out he had a bit of a crush on you back at Samwell, but I told him that’s no big deal considering half the school had a crush on you, huh?”

Jack’s quiet for a second, trying to tamp down the heat that’s crawling up his chest and his cheeks and down his fingers. “I’m only second place, though? Bittle, you wound me,” he jokes halfheartedly, still trying to process the fact that Bitty thought Jack is one of the most important people in his life, probably second only to his own mother.

In retrospect, he should have known. Bittle is one of the most important people in his life, too.

“Well, you’re not my mother, so,” Bitty quips, laughing, and Jack smiles at how predictable he is. “You have to deal with being number two just this once.”

“ _Ouch_ ,” Jack says, reaching up to tug his hair. “I’m second place _and_ number two.”

“It was a joke about your jersey number!” Bitty says defensively.

Jack chuckles. “Yeah, I know,” he says, seriously this time. “Bittle, I’m honored to be second place.” And he is, he truly is. He selfishly thinks that Charlie had not even been close enough to rank, and somehow that comforts him a little bit.

“You’re my top two, Jack,” Bitty says softly. “How could you not be?”

Jack’s chest tightens, and wow, he really needs to get a hold of himself. “You’re my top two, too, Bits,” he says, probably way too sincerely.

Bitty gasps loudly. “Don’t be pulling my leg now, Jack Zimmermann.”

“What? I’m serious!”

“Second to Shitty?” Bitty asks, like he still doesn’t quite buy it.

And oh, boy, Jack actually forgot about Shitty, which is funny considering he’s literally a room away. “Shitty’s third,” he says, trying to sound like he’s just thinking about it. “My parents are first, you’re second,” he finishes. “Shitty says hi, by the way.”

Bitty gasps again. “You’re with Shitty? Put him on!”

“He’s sleeping in the guest room, Bits,” Jack says, laughing.

“Sleeping in the guest room,” Bitty mutters mockingly. “You can’t blindside me with that kind of information, Jack! First, I’m up higher than Shitty, and then you tell me Shitty is literally right there in your apartment—”

Jack smothers a laugh into his pillow. “Actually, we’re in Montreal.”

“MONTREAL? How long have we not talked?!” Bitty says, sounding genuinely distraught.

Jack laughs for real this time. “You were busy. I get it,” he reassures him.

Bitty exhales loudly, and it makes the sound of air blowing into a microphone. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Hey. It’s payback for playoffs, eh?” Jack jokes. “You’re fine, Bits. You’re golden.” He glances at the clock on his bedside table, now reading 11:27 PM. He can’t help the yawn that escapes his mouth at the realization of how late it’s gotten. On the other side of the line, Bitty yawns, too.

“You should get some rest,” Jack says quietly into his pillow.

“It’s too early to sleep,” Bitty says.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Jack says, almost like a challenge.

Bitty breathes a laugh. “I promise.”

“Okay. I’m going to go to sleep,” Jack says, but makes no move to end the call.

After a few moments, Bitty perks up. “Jack?”

“Hm?”

“I love you second best.”

It sounds like it should hurt, but it doesn’t. Jack closes his eyes, nuzzling his grin into his pillow. “I love you second best, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some things:  
> \- man, calls are so hard to WRITE WHY DID I DO THIS  
> \- i love one (1) shitty knight. that is all  
> \- my favorite thing about this chapter is calling every single ridiculous property mentioned bob’s _______. bad bob is a filthy rich hockey legend  
> \- k i know bitty is short for a model kind of but its my au and i get to do what i want okAY  
> anyway i'm heading into finals week so the next chapter might not be up for a bit but it's nyfw!! and the start of the season!!! get ready for EXTREME pain i mean PINING!! extreme pining!!!


	4. home

 “Okay, I am facing…an intersection now,” Bitty is just saying as Jack takes his phone out of the noisy locker room.

“Right. Left,” Jack says, walking down the empty hallway.

“ _What?_ ” Bitty gripes impatiently. “Right or left?”

“Sorry. Just take the left,” Jack laughs, shaking his head. “Should be right around the corner.”

There’s some shuffling on Bitty’s end, and then: “I’m here!”

“You’re not,” Jack says into his phone as he takes the right down the hall. “That’s physically impossible.”

“ _Honey_ , it can’t be impossible if it’s the truth,” Bitty says patronizingly.

Jack rolls his eyes. “Well, you’re wrong, because I’m standing right here and you aren’t.” He leans on the corner of the hallway, as if to prove a point.

“Well, _you’re_ wrong, because I _am_ here,” Bitty says, but Jack doesn’t hear it through his phone.

He turns around to find Bitty all decked out in Falconers gear, an eyebrow cocked and sporting a grin that’s entirely too smug. Jack briefly registers the fact that Bitty looks _so good_ , even wearing a hockey jersey that’s at least a size too big over a blue hoodie with his hair spilling messily out of his toque, before he’s striding forward and pulling him into a hug. Bitty laughs as he goes easily, dropping his bag and squeezing Jack tightly for a second before abruptly pushing him away.

“Eugh, Mr. Zimmermann!” Bitty admonishes. “You stink!” He wrinkles his nose for good measure.

Jack shrugs. “Might have something to do with having just played a game of professional hockey, eh?”

Bitty’s jaw drops dramatically. “And you couldn’t have showered before calling?” Bitty says. “I assumed you at least spent five seconds under the spray before telling me to come down!”

Jack rolls his eyes. “You act like you didn’t spend four years in the SMH locker room yourself,” he says. Truthfully, Jack had been thinking about the fact that he would be seeing Bitty for the first time in person in over a year since he woke up that morning. He was able to push it aside long enough to eke out a win against the Bruins in regulation, which felt good even though it was just the pre-season, but after the final whistle, he instinctively looked around the box to see if he could find Bitty from the ice. He found no such luck, so calling him was naturally the next step. He’d barely switched out his sweater and skates for a t-shirt and slides before he rummaged through his bag for his phone. It was an easy out of press time, too, which was a huge bonus for Jack, who doesn’t necessarily hate interviews so much as he wishes they weren’t a part of the job description.

In retrospect, Jack really should have showered first. But this was Bitty, and Bitty knew him better than anyone—even his smelly, post-game self.

Still, Bitty makes a face, wrinkling his nose again. “Yeah, worst four years of my _life_ ,” he laments, but he’s only able to hold his judgey expression for about three seconds before he’s walking back into Jack’s arms again. “I missed you so much,” he says into Jack’s chest.

Jack breathes in the familiar scent of Bitty’s shampoo as he rests his head on top of Bitty’s. He feels pleasantly warm like this, and he’s not quite sure if it’s because of the game or Bitty or both. “Missed you, too, bud,” he says. It’s the understatement of the year, but they’d be standing there all day if he tried to verbalize what he was feeling.

They stay that way for a moment, grounded in each other’s arms, before Bitty shifts carefully so that his cheek rests on Jack’s chest. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“You really fuckin’ stink.”

Jack groans. “Love ya, too, Bits,” he deadpans, finally pulling away and turning Bitty around by his shoulders to push him towards the dresser room.

 

-

 

Jack realizes two things during his car ride home with Bitty.

First: if he thought nursing a crush on his best friend who lived across the country was hard, nursing a crush on his best friend when he’s _right fucking there_ is a tragedy.

He hadn’t realized how easy it was to suppress his own feelings for Bitty when he couldn’t really see him, but with him barely a foot away, talking a mile a minute and gesticulating wildly, Jack feels his affection for Bitty fill his chest so much, it feels fit to burst. Skype and Facetime do him absolutely no justice—not to mention the fact that Bitty had gotten gorgeously tan, like he does when he’d just come back from Georgia after the summer, and his hair had grown long enough so that it flops down over his forehead in light curls that bounce as he nods along to the beat pulsing the car speakers.  

Jack feels the ridiculous need to run his fingers through Bitty’s hair, and it’s taking all of his famous self-control to keep his eyes on the road with both hands on the wheel.

The second, more apparent thing is this: it’s been more than a year since they’d last hung out like this, but it also feels like no time at all.

There’s no awkwardness, no stilted conversation, no pretenses. Earlier, Bitty had waltzed into the dressing room like he owned it, and, to the delight of absolutely everyone, started handing out mini-pies like he’d been doing it every day for years. He waited patiently in Jack’s stall as he showered and got dressed, and even entertained Tater, who had hugged him so hard that his feet left the ground. After that, Bitty followed Jack to his truck, flung his duffel into the back, and maneuvered smoothly into the passenger seat to take command of the aux cord. Jack supposed they’d done this often enough during Bitty’s last two years of college for it to be standard, but it also had been quite a long time—he didn’t think to expect the level of comfort they had with each other to change until he was relieved that it hadn’t. Bitty slots into his life so seamlessly, laughing at his chirps and randomly poking at his cheek, it’s almost criminal that it isn’t a regular thing anymore.

It’s a lot of feelings to be dealing with in the span of a ten-minute car ride, and Jack considers it a miracle that they make it to his condo without any major accidents. For his part, Bitty seems mostly oblivious to the rollercoaster of emotions Jack is trying to keep at bay, chattering away happily, except for a moment when he stops to ask Jack if he’s okay.

“I’m great,” Jack says, trying to mask the distraction in his voice.

“You sure?” Bitty prods, biting his lip. “If you’re tired, I can stop,” he offers.

“I’m fine.” Jack glances over at Bitty to smile at him, something he doesn’t really need to force. “Keep going.”

Bitty seems to consider this, releasing his bottom lip. “’Kay,” he says tentatively, before launching back into a story about his recent excursion to Griffith Park with Charlie and his roommates. Jack listens, occasionally asking questions and chirping him, so Bitty doesn’t ask again.

Once Jack’s truck has been successfully parked in its usual spot and he’s turned off the engine, Bitty suddenly quiets, looking out of the window hesitantly. “I can’t believe it’s been a year,” he says.

“Makes two of us,” Jack agrees. “Kind of nuts, eh?”

Bitty shakes his head, giving Jack a look that he can’t quite read. “We’re never doing that again.” He pauses for a second, holding Jack’s eyes as he seems to contemplate something, before reaching for the door and hopping out of the truck.

Jack exhales loudly to himself before following Bitty to the elevator. It’s going to be a long day.

 

-

 

Once on they’re on Jack’s floor, Jack hands Bitty his keys. “Here. You can do the honors.”

Bitty eyes the keys suspiciously. “Jack Zimmermann. What are you hiding.”

Jack frowns at Bitty. “Nothing,” he says, nonchalantly shifting his bag on his shoulder. “I always let you open the door.”

Bitty narrows his eyes at him before snatching the keys and twisting them in the lock. He flings the door open quickly, only to be assaulted by pulsing music, party popper confetti, the beaming faces of his former teammates, and loud shouts of—

“SURPRISE!”

Jack grins as he feels Bitty thump him hard in the chest, wetly muttering, “Bless your heart,” before he’s being swarmed by the former members of Samwell Mens Hockey Team. “What are y’all _doing_ _here?!_ ” Bitty shrieks, running straight into Lardo’s arms. The rest of the gang—led by Ransom and Holster—pile onto them in a noisy group hug. Jack closes the door behind him as Shitty waves him over.

“Get in here, Zimmermann!” he yells, and before he knows it, he’s been absorbed into the mass of screaming hockey players. Bitty is openly laugh-crying, all of their faces are smushed against backs and shoulders and other faces, and Jack feels lighter than he has in a long time.  

Things get moving pretty quickly after that. Bitty rushes straight to the kitchen, claiming that the two pies he’d originally brought just wouldn’t do for this many people (which, for the record, was true), so Dex and Chowder follow him there to help. Ransom, Holster, and Lardo claim the TV, playing match after match of very intense Mario Kart. For his part, Jack gets sucked into a game of pool with Shitty and Nursey, who, funnily enough, has never played pool before, so they end up spending half the time teaching him and the other half chirping him to death.

They order a ton of pizza for dinner—definitely not on Jack’s meal plan, but it’s a special occasion—and get each other up to date on new jobs, new partners, new milestones. Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster regale them with their shenanigans up in their Boston flat, and Bitty tells them all about the random famous people that he’s bumped into in LA. Jack stays away from the alcohol, nursing a bottle of water instead, but he feels pleasantly buzzed on the feeling of family.

Filled in a way it hadn’t been in a while, the inside of Jack’s apartment feels reminiscent of the Cup Kegster a few years ago—streamers and fairy lights haphazardly strewn across his ceilings, balloons floating in the corners, Solo cups on every possible surface, and boisterous laughter filling the air. Jack had grown accustomed to how bland and impersonal his apartment looks on a regular day, but now, it fully felt like a home, if a little crowded and messy for his personal taste.

Jack looks at Bitty, holding court on his couch, and just as Bitty looks up at him with a dazzling bright grin, it hits him again what he’s been missing all this time.

 

-

 

After the apartment had been cleaned (kind of) and everyone had said their goodbyes and see-you-laters (because it’s a Tuesday, and the reality is everyone has to work the next day), Jack joins Bitty in the kitchen, where he is inevitably making more pie. He drags a stool to the island to watch Bitty work a hunk of dough, propping his chin up with his knuckles, elbows on the counter. He feels his fatigue finally set in, his eyelids suddenly heavy, but he’s content to watch Bitty work for at least a few more hours before retiring to bed.

“Thank you,” Bitty says seriously, after a moment. He looks up to give Jack a small smile.

Jack hums. “What for?”

“Jack.” Bitty looks up at him with an incredulous expression. “If you’re really gonna sit there and pretend you didn’t plan that whole shebang earlier, you ain’t foolin’ nobody,” he says, pointing at him with the rolling pin.

Jack laughs quietly, stealing a slice of the apple skins Bitty left out on the cutting board for him, like he always does. “It wasn’t all me, you know. The guys practically insisted,” he says simply. “You didn’t think they’d let me hog you the entire day, right?”

“Ugh, okay, I _know_.” Bitty sighs loudly as he gently lowers the crust over the pie tin. “Y’all have a really long history of trying to surprise me, and _thank you_. Really, just—thank you. That was the sweetest thing and I missed everyone so fucking much, but then everyone said they had stuff to do today, like I thought Ransom and Holster were supposed to be in _freaking_ _Toronto_ right now! So I just… I just thought, y’know.” He shrugs one shoulder hesitantly, peeking up at Jack through the short curtain of hair that hangs just over his eyes. “Thought we could hang out or something. Just me and you.”

Jack studies Bitty—the low dip of his eyebrows and the downturned corner of his mouth—trying to understand what that was supposed to mean without over-analyzing it. He nabs another piece of apple skin to bite down the words that form just under his tongue. “Well, we’re hanging out now,” he says carefully.

Bitty scrunches his nose, making a face. “Yeah, _now_ ,” he says mockingly, dumping the apples into the pie tin. “What do you say I finish up here and you can go ahead and pick what we watch, huh?” He looks up from the pie long enough to shoot Jack a small smile that feels something like a secret.

Jack nods and stretches as he gets up from his stool. “Hockey?” he asks, only half teasing.

Bitty swats at him with a towel. “Don’t you dare!”

Jack heads down to his couch with a grin, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and reaching for the remote. He ends up pulling up the next episode of the documentary series he’d been watching on Netflix, since he enjoys the history and sociology of it and figures Bitty would appreciate all the food talk. Ten minutes into the episode about home cooking, Bitty plops down next to him, carefully holding two mugs and tucking his socked feet under Jack’s thigh.

“What’s this?” Bitty asks, holding out the cup of tea to Jack, who takes it with a grin.

“Ugly Delicious,” Jack says around the sip that he takes. “It’s this series produced by David Chang. Food and history and culture and stuff.”

“Oh!” Bitty wiggles, still trying to find a comfortable position. “He’s supposed to be like a legend or something! Noodle Bar has been on my food bucket list for _ever_ ,” he gushes excitedly.

“New York, right? You should go while you’re up there. My parents say it’s really good,” Jack says, lowering the volume and turning on the subtitles. “They don’t have a location over in LA?”

“Eh,” Bitty makes a face, setting his mug down on the coffee table. A quick glance at it confirms that it’s filled with Bitty’s overly sweetened mix of coffee. “It’s not the real thing, you know?”

Jack lets out an incredulous laugh. “What is that supposed to mean?” He turns to face Bitty. “It’s the same owner, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s not Noodle Bar,” Bitty whines, finally settling into a position where their thighs and shoulders and pressed together. “It’s like… this weird word that I can’t even remember, and the food is kinda different and _not_ cheap and it’s almost impossible to make reservations!”

Bitty seems oddly worked up about it, so Jack raises an eyebrow at him, resting his arm against the back of the couch. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was such a touchy subject,” he says teasingly.

Bitty closes his eyes slowly and takes a deep breath, slumping down into Jack’s side a little. “It’s not.”

Jack is confused at the sudden change of mood. He grabs the remote to pause the show. “Huh?”

Instead of answering, Bitty stares hard at the screen. “It’s different,” he says quietly. “It’s so different.”

Jack puts his mug down and twists to face Bitty, careful not to disrupt his position. “Are we still talking about Momofuku?”

Bitty bites his lip. “Maybe.”

Jack shoulders him lightly. “Bits.”

Bitty gives him a sidelong glance before sliding back up. He rests his head on Jack’s forearm, not really meeting his eyes. “You get why I couldn’t come back here, right?” he says. “Why it’s taken me so long to come back and why I couldn’t let you come visit?”

Jack blinks. Honestly, he’s not entirely sure that he is. “You’re really busy out there, Bits, I get it—”

“No,” Bitty says suddenly, sitting up to level with Jack. “It’s not that.”

His eyes look a little panicked, and Jack frowns with concern. “Then what is it?”

“I just.” Bitty rubs a hand over his face, mussing up his hair. “I knew that if I saw you—if I saw you guys, I would never want to go back there. Or I’d never want you to leave.”

Jack feels his expression soften just as Bitty’s face falls. He quickly gathers him into his arms and Bitty exhales into Jack’s sweatshirt as Jack rubs his back. He wills his heart to stay calm despite the admission that sets off tingles in his fingertips because he’s so sure Bitty will feel it hammering in his chest, so he focuses on Bitty’s solid warmth in his arms and tries to calm him down instead. “You’re okay, Bits. You’re okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss onto his temple.

Bitty sniffles after a moment, pushing at Jack’s chest. “Ugh, look at me,” he grumbles, swiping at his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s really hard, you know? It’s been a year, Jack,” he says, blinking away a fresh set of tears. “And I still… I don’t have _anyone_ over there. It’s so _lonely_ . I mean, I have friends and everything, and my roommates are really nice, and the work is amazing and unbelievable, but it doesn’t feel _real_ . It doesn’t feel like they’re my _friends_ , y’know? And Charlie’s been so busy lately… I didn’t actually expect everything about LA to feel like an act but it _does_ ,” he says, like he’s desperate for Jack to understand. “And I know it’s unfair to expect you guys to always be there for me when I’m so far away and you have your own lives to worry about—”

Jack’s heard a lot of this before in their previous phone calls, but he’s never realized the extent of it until now. He’d gotten so used to Bitty deflecting and not knowing how to ask for something, even when he desperately needed it, and Jack takes pride in usually being able to tell, but for some reason, he wasn’t able to detect this. He’s always thought of Bitty’s forced isolation from them as something of a defense mechanism, and he’s respected it for as long as he thought it was helping Bitty—which it clearly isn’t. It’s sobering, the realization that they can talk so much but still say so little of what needs to be said, but maybe it’s a good thing that this is finally coming out while they’re both physically in the same place. Jack can’t imagine having to do this on the phone, when he can’t hold Bitty to remind him that he’s here.

“Hey,” he scolds lightly, squeezing Bitty’s shoulder. “What’s the team motto?”

Bitty chuckles wetly, sniffling again. “Jack.”

“The team motto,” Jack presses expectantly.

Bitty sighs. “Got your back.”

“Got your back,” Jack agrees, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at Bitty. “I mean it, Bittle. Always.”

Bitty nods, squeezing his eyes shut, and despite all of Jack’s impulse control, he reaches up to cup Bitty’s face and gently swipes an oncoming tear away with his thumb. Bitty closes his eyes and leans into his touch, and suddenly, their faces are impossibly close, noses already touching. Jack thinks he could be selfish for a moment and lean forward just a hair, just to see what if, _whatifwhatifwhatif_ , and he’s so close to indulging that fantasy when it dawns on him that he’s completely not ready for rejection—rejection that’s almost inevitable because _Bitty likes someone else_.

Like clockwork, Bitty’s phone starts ringing loudly—a tune that Jack vaguely registers as Beyoncé. Jack sighs internally and redirects his kiss to Bitty’s forehead, because that’s definitely a normal thing that he’s done before, before pulling away.

Bitty looks a little disoriented as he reaches for his phone and takes a look at the caller ID. He sighs loudly, scratching the back of his head, so Jack leans over to see for himself.

 _Charlie_ , Bitty’s screen reads, and the picture underneath it rings some very dull bells in the back of Jack’s brain.

Go figure.

Bitty grimaces at Jack. “Can I take it?”

Jack shrugs, making a sweeping go-ahead movement with his hand and settling back onto the couch. He’s still very much reeling from the almost-kiss to try to think of a reason why Bitty shouldn’t, so he starts flipping the remote in his hands for something to do.

Bitty wipes his eyes on his shirtsleeves quickly and looks up at Jack questioningly. “Does it look like I just had a major meltdown?”

Jack cracks a smile, but shakes his head. “You’re fine.”

Bitty nods, swiping at his eyes and patting his cheeks one last time before he slides to accept the call, glancing at Jack as he holds the phone up. “Hey!” he says, smiling brightly at the camera.

_Oh, it’s Facetime. Fantastic._

“Hey, sorry, is this a bad time?” Charlie’s voice comes out of Bitty’s phone, upbeat and a little tinny.

Bitty looks at Jack beyond his phone for confirmation, and Jack nods his encouragement despite his inner protests. “Sure,” Bitty says. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to wish you luck!” Charlie says. “I’m gonna be working all week so I wanted to catch you before things started to get busy. You’re going to kill it!” Jack feels the urge to roll his eyes, but he really can’t help but agree. At least Charlie’s supportive.

On the other side of the couch, Bitty honest-to-god giggles. “Thanks, babe,” he says. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Charlie practically yells. “You landed Tommy fucking Hilfiger in New York Fashion Week after only one year! You’re unstoppable!”

Bitty sticks his tongue out at his phone. “Okay, enough of that. What’s got you so busy?” Jack hides a laugh behind the remote at how Bitty so obviously reverts the topic from himself to the other person, and Bitty throws the nearest pillow at him for his trouble.

“I got cast for a short series of commercials—wait, what was that?”

Jack’s eyes widen at Bitty, who snickers. “Oh, that was just Jack being ridiculous,” he says, giving a Jack a pointed look. “But, honey, that’s amazing! What for?”

A loud gasp comes out of Bitty’s phone. “Jack _Zimmermann?_ You’re with Jack Zimmermann right this very moment?”

Jack raises an eyebrow, which Bitty levels with narrowed eyes. “Yeah. Thought I could drop by for a visit before everything starts, so I’m sleeping over here tonight.”

“He’s right there?” Charlie asks, his voice suddenly low. “He can hear me?”

“Yep.” Bitty winks at Jack, which is about all the warning he gets before Bitty twists around to include him in the frame. “Say hi, Jack!”

“Hi, Jack,” Jack deadpans, raising his hand in an awkward wave at the slightly pixelated moving figure on Bitty’s phone.

“Oh my god.” Charlie’s jaw falls open. “It’s really you. Um, hi!” He scrambles to pull on his other earphone. “I had a really huge crush on you in college,” he blurts, before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Bitty rolls his eyes grandly, which saves Jack from having to respond. “Smooth,” he chirps, smirking.

Jack decides it would only be polite to put him out his misery. “Bitty might have mentioned that before. It’s all good, man. Thanks, I guess.” He plasters on his PR smile and hopes it sells.

On screen, Charlie gapes at Bitty. “Traitor!”

Bitty laughs. “I told you I tell him everything,” he reminds him. “Your fault for not taking that to heart.”

Jack feels his chest warm at the idea. He’s about to give into his curiosity and ask Charlie again about the commercials he’s doing when another figure comes into frame and—to Jack’s complete surprise—leans down to kiss Charlie on the cheek.

“Hey, baby,” the guy says, just loud enough for the microphone to catch.

Jack tamps down his shock, schooling his expression into a neutral one, and he feels more than sees Bitty turn to him, probably just as confused with his eyes impossibly wide.

“Hey, Bitty, Jack,” Charlie pipes up, oblivious to what’s happened on the other side of the call. “This is Liam!”

Jack glances at Bitty just in time to see him force a smile. “Hi, Liam!”

Liam wiggles his fingers at the camera briefly before stepping out of frame again. Charlie grins dopily as he watches him go. “So I guess we’re dating?” he says, when he’s redirected his attention to the call. “I’m sorry I forgot to mention—we’ve both been so busy and—”

“No!” Bitty says quickly. “It’s fine, you don’t have to explain. I, um,” Bitty bites his lip, glancing at Jack for help. Jack’s eyes widen a little in panic before he remembers the pie, so he cocks his head at the kitchen. “I have to go get my pie out of the oven!”

For his part, Charlie still looks completely oblivious. “You’re baking a pie? At this hour?”

Jack decides to jump in to help. “You know Bittle, can’t stay away from the kitchen too long, eh?”

Bitty chokes out quick laugh, nodding. “Hey, thanks for the call, though, sweetheart! And good luck with your commercials! I’ll see you next week?” he rushes out in one breath.

“Oh, thanks! Yeah, see ya, Bitty! And good luck!” Charlie says, waving. He’s barely said goodbye before Bitty’s cut the call, setting his phone face down on the couch and starting towards the kitchen.

“Bits,” Jack says, grabbing his wrist. “Are you okay?”

Bitty eyes dart to Jack’s hand on his wrist, eyes manic. It feels like a gut punch, watching the flash of pain that passes Bitty’s features. “Yeah, Jack. It’s fine,” he says, offering him a tight smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Jack reluctantly lets him go to attend to his pie, but he settles back on the arm rest of the couch so he can watch Bitty in the kitchen. Bitty makes quick work of extracting the pie from the oven and depositing it onto the pie rack, only lingering for a few moments before flopping back onto his place on the couch. He wordlessly folds himself into Jack’s side, and Jack easily pulls him in. Bitty tugs at the throw blanket draped over the armrest, pulling it over their legs.

“You sure you’re okay, bud?” Jack asks gently. Strangely, he knows—viscerally—exactly how it must feel for Bitty to have seen that, the sting of unrequited love, and it’s definitely not something he would wish on his best friend.

The irony of it all is not lost on him.

Bitty nods, looking slightly detached. “Yeah, I’m—It’s not like there was ever anything between us, anyway.” He burrows further into Jack’s side. “Guess I was right.”

“Hey,” Jack says sternly. “He’s as an idiot if he doesn’t see how amazing you are. He’d have been so lucky to have you.” It’s about as much as Jack can say without giving himself away too much, because as cruel and selfish as it is to celebrate the fact that Bitty’s crush is unrequited, which gives him a decent shot at getting his own crush to be requited, Bitty doesn’t deserve any of that at all.

Jack suddenly feels the urge to fly over to LA and check this Charlie into oblivion.

Bitty nods into Jack’s shoulder, and Jack’s arm tightens protectively around him. “Can we just watch the show, please?” he says quietly.

Jack complies quickly, grabbing the remote and pressing play. He looks down at Bitty to make sure there aren’t any waterworks, and, once confirmed, redirects his attention to the TV.

Bitty stays quiet throughout the duration of the episode, and Jack misses the little side comments he usually makes when they watch something together. He spends most of the time watching Bitty watch the show, playing with the hair at his nape, trying to make sure that he’s okay and searching for signs in case he’s not. About three-fourths of the way into the episode, Bitty’s eyes start to flutter closed, and Jack privately breathes a sigh of relief.

On the TV, David Chang talks about how he’s experienced love through food at different times in his life, and Jack thinks about Bitty’s maple apple pie cooling on the counter. He thinks about the apple skin from earlier that night, and the cup of tea, and the cookies he hid in his bag Jack’s junior year, and all the other times Bitty had fed and force-fed Jack in the past five years.

Jack thinks about Bitty, and how much he wants to protect him from any kind of hurt. How he would almost give up a limb just to ensure that Bitty would always be happy, regardless of whom with or why.

He thinks about love.

He doesn’t think about tomorrow, because tomorrow, Bitty will be going back up to New York at noon, and Jack can’t see him off because he has to be at practice, but he does allow himself to think about Saturday, the day of Bitty’s show. He thinks about second chances and missing 100% of the shots he doesn’t take. Jack’s not a big proponent of fate, but he thinks today was a huge, glaring sign.

He thinks he can work with Saturday.

But for now, with Bitty snuggled into his side, dozing peacefully, and a warm, glowing feeling in his chest, he thinks he’ll take what he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I got stuck in several places and ran into pacing problems a couple times but I hope the fact that it’s a p long chapter w a decent amount of fluff makes up for that!
> 
> DELETED SCENE  
> “Brah,” Shitty says, smacking Jack’s stomach lightly with the back of his hand after their third round of pool, which now included Dex. “You have got to cool it with the longing looks, man.”
> 
> Jack drags his attention away from Bitty to blink at Shitty. “What are you talking about?” Across the room, Bitty laughs brightly at Ransom and Holster’s enthusiastic re-enactment of a song from Frozen, catching Jack’s attention again.
> 
> “That,” Shitty says sternly, smacking him again to regain his attention. 
> 
> Other things:  
> \- i moved up the preseason a little bit because apparently it starts mid-september but nyfw is early september so we gotta adjust for the Narrative  
> \- yes, the samwell mens hockey team is very touchy and they show affection through mild roughhousing and cuddling thanks for coming to my ted talk  
> \- anyway y’all should watch ugly delicious on netflix, they talk about rly interesting things like racism in food esp abt asian food and cultural diaspora and also the food porn is amazing so actually maybe watch with caution because the cravings can get ridiculous  
> \- on that note i did v minimal research abt momofuku (most of it is from watching ugly delicious and from previous research about milk bar that i did for this other fic) and though it is also one of my bucket list items to be able to eat at any of their restaurants, i only wanted to use it as a thinly veiled metaphor for how much bitty actually prefers the east coast over the west LOL so idk if for some reason majordomo isnt this wildly popular restaurant that you can just easily walk into…..sorry? but not really  
> \- remember when i said bitty was over jack? LMFAO ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> as always i'd love to hear what you think in the comments <3 thanks for reading!!


	5. plans

“I need a favor.”

Jack hasn’t said that phrase in a long while. Growing up, he’s become very aware of his privilege, thanks to the relentless ribbing of his teammates throughout the years (probably borne out of jealousy or spite). As a result, he’d always tried his hardest to do what he could on his own, sans any name-dropping for special treatment—that is, except for emergencies and special occasions.

He thought maybe now was a little bit of both.

On the other side of the line, Alicia laughs, bright and clear. “Of course, baby. What do you need?”

“I, um.” Jack’s mind blanks as soon as he realizes that his first answer—the one that popped up immediately after being asked—was Bitty. He shakes his head and tries to get a grip. _Crisse._ “I… need help with someone. A date,” he says, figuring that should be just enough information for his mother.

Alicia lets out a small delighted squeal. “Oh my god, Jacky! Who is it? Do I know them?”

Jack groans. “ _Maman_.”

“Sorry!” Alicia surrenders. “I’m just excited for you! Is it new?” She gasps dramatically. “Are they cute?” she says, lowering her voice, as if suddenly people started listening in to their conversation.

“Maman!”

“Alright, alright, sorry!” she says again, sounding entirely not sorry. “What is it exactly that you need? Flowers? A reservation?”

Jack chews his lip, considering. “Both?” he decides.

Alicia hums. “Any preferences? When do you need this?” she says. Jack hears the click of a ballpen and a piece of paper being torn.

“Um,” Jack says again. “This Saturday. But it might be kinda hard to get? Just—let me know if it’s impossible and I can adjust, I think—”

“Jack.”

“Momofuku Ko,” he finally blurts.

Alicia is quiet for a moment. Jack imagines her eyebrows going up to her hairline. “That’s in New York,” she says casually, like she’s stating an observation. If she’s surprised at all, she’s hiding it well—his mother _is_ an actress, after all.

“Yes,” Jack agrees.

“And today is Wednesday, and you need a reservation for Saturday,” Alicia continues. Jack hears the pen click again. And again.

“Yes.”

Alicia sighs. “Jacky, you know they require a thirty-day reservation period, right?”

Jack nods, forgetting for a moment that she can’t see him. “That’s why I called you,” he says hopefully.

Alicia clucks her tongue. There’s a pause that has Jack holding his breath before finally, she laughs. “I’ve raised a smart boy!” she says, delighted. “I’ll call Su right after this and let you know what she says.”

Jack exhales loudly, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you like this,” he groans. “I should have just called Papa.”

Alicia laughs again. “You know your father would have given you a much harder time, sweetie.”

Which—yeah, that’s probably true. “That’s fair,” Jack concedes, before remembering the other thing he needed. “Wait,” he says. “There’s more.”

“More?” Alicia says, sounding intrigued.

“Is there any way you could—maybe get me into the Tommy Hilfiger show? On Saturday?”

This time Jack’s sure he can hear his mother raise her eyebrows. “At Fashion Week?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Alicia lets out a single, loud “ _Ha!_ ” like she can’t believe what she just heard. “Jack Laurent, are you dating a _model?_ ”

Jack startles at the concept because—holy shit. How had he not realized? “Um, not currently, but I would…like to be?”

Alicia giggles. “You’re every bit your father’s son,” she teases him. It used to rub him the wrong way—basically anything comparing him to his dad did—and years ago, that simple phrase would have set off a very negative train of thought in his brain. But that was years ago, and he’s in a really good place now, the kind of place where his mother can crack jokes like this and Jack can not feel threatened by it. Besides, it’s the best possible comparison if it implies that Jack might get to have Bitty the way his parents have each other.

Jack whines impatiently. “So can you?”

“Pft, of course,” Alicia says, tone almost gloating. “It’s good to know you’re finally taking interest in the family business!”

It’s another joke, of course, and this time Jack does laugh. He’s rarely compared to his mother, but when he is, even in jest, it had never been a source of anxiety. “Thank you so much, maman.”

“Any time, baby. I’m happy for you,” she says fondly. “But, actually, I need you to do something for me, too.”

Jack braces himself. _Oh boy._ “Yeah?”

“Be my arm candy on Saturday? Your father will be in Toronto for a charity dinner and I don’t want to be alone.”

Jack grins. That, he can do.

  


-

  


Contrary to popular belief, Jack Zimmermann is a huge romantic. (He attributes this to the fact that he grew up with his parents, who continually try to one-up each other with crazy gestures of love and affection. Frankly, Jack thinks both his parents should get a hobby or start spending their money on more relevant things, but he also thinks it’s kinda cute. Sue him.)

This is, however, his first time doing anything of this scale. Granted, it’s not even that huge—not when you compare it to skywriting, which Jack will admit is way too much for the occasion—but he’s taking a huge gamble here. While he’s so, _so_ painfully sure of Bitty, he’s not entirely certain how Bitty will react. He wants it to be big enough to make a significant impression on Bitty, for him to know that he’s serious about this and totally committed, but not too big so that Bitty can react however he wants to. He’s been privy to too many public proposals gone wrong to want to risk that kind of humiliation for the both of them. (Not that Jack’s going to propose. Yet.)

When he decided he was going to do this, Jack didn’t break down _per se_ , but it was a very close thing.

It all hit him late that day, after he’d just gotten off the phone with his mother to finalize his (well, their) plan for next couple of days. They had decided that Alicia would be flying down to Washington the next day to watch the Falcs face off against the Capitals, and then afterwards, they would both make their way up to New York to catch Bitty’s show. Alicia’s made all the necessary arrangements and sent Jack all the phone numbers and receipts that he needs to have, and suddenly, everything Jack had carefully mapped out in his head has become real.

Suddenly, Jack is completely unprepared.

He really has no idea what he’s going to do if Bitty reacts badly. What the hell is he going to do the moment things start to go wrong?

And it’s entirely plausible, too. Jack can come up with a million good reasons Bitty should turn him down, still starting with the fact that they now live and work on opposite sides of the country, and ending with the fact that they’re best friends and the risk of losing that is just too high. There’s also that Jack can be moody and detached and a complete asshole sometimes, that his anxiety still causes him to spiral in the most inconvenient of times, that he tends to be stubborn and insensitive whenever he feels stressed, and really, why would someone as bright and lovely as Bittle settle for someone like Jack?

He feels the familiar sting behind his eyes and squeezes them shut. He rides the crashing waves of anxiety before pulling himself out of it with the breathing exercises he’s learned over the years. He allows himself some time to recover before re-approaching the situation. If he’s going to be ready, he might as well be thorough about it. (His teammates always chirp him about being 110%, and that has its own pros and cons.)

Hence, contingencies.

**Plan B, a.k.a. the plan for if Bitty rejects him but wants to stay friends:** Jack smiles, pretends to not let it affect him, and tries to enjoy the dinner anyway. He can wallow in self-pity when he gets back to Providence and, inevitably, that’s going to hurt like a bitch, but he’ll stick it out if it means he keeps getting to have Bitty in his life. Win another Stanley Cup and come out at the end of the season. Support Bitty no matter what happens and continue being his best friend.

**Plan C, a.k.a. the plan for if Bitty rejects him but doesn’t want to stay friends:** Skip to the wallowing in self-pity part, and then channel his pain and frustration into hockey. Win another Stanley Cup and come out at the end of the season. Possibly see his therapist and Shitty more often. Possibly find something (someone?) else to fill the hole. (Jack finds this one highly unlikely, but he’s trying to be completely prepared, so he’s put it up as an alternative outcome anyway.)

Of course, both are only alternatives to the original **Plan A, a.k.a. the plan for if Bitty doesn’t reject him and decides that he wants Jack the same way Jack wants him** , which is a little more complicated.

“I’m sorry, you want to _what?_ ”

It’s late Thursday morning, just after practice, and Georgia Martin is staring at Jack like he’d just grown an extra head.

Yeah. He probably deserves that reaction.

Jack exhales, gripping his chair’s armrests. “It’s only a few months earlier—”

“Jack.” Georgia’s tone is dead serious. “That’s more than a few months.”

Jack sighs. “Okay, so it’s more than a few months,” he concedes. “But you said it yourself, it will probably gain us a lot of support—”

“While also giving you time to deal with any backlash,” Georgia finishes for him. “Which is why we agreed to do it at the end of the season.” She leans back into her set, clasping her fingers as she rests her elbows on the armrests of her chair. She studies Jack, frowning. “Unless you’re pre-empting something? Has something happened?”

“The former,” Jack says, wincing, and he tells her everything.

Georgia’s expression gets progressively softer as he continues talking, which he takes as a good sign up until she leans forward on her desk and levels Jack with a concerned look. “Listen, Jack. You know we support you here one hundred percent, and we’ve got your back no matter what, but I just don’t think I can allow this. It’s a little rash, frankly, and I’m primarily concerned for your safety. It’s too risky, especially with the timing.”

Jack nods. “I understand,” he says carefully. “But… this isn’t too far off from Plan J, if the timelines were moved up a little…?”

Georgia seems to consider this, eyeing Jack. She cracks a small smile. “You really want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jack says. _No question._

Georgia shakes her head. “I’ll think about it.”

Jack lets out a relieved woosh of air. “Thank you, George.” He gets up from his chair and starts to head out when—

“Zimmermann,” Georgia calls out. Jack turns around abruptly just in time to see her quick wink. “I’m happy for you.”

  


-

  


**Wed, 5 September, 3:43 PM**

Hey Bits. You get in okay?

**6:21 PM**

hey! yes!! sorry i had to go to a fitting  
and then a quick shoot (Loudly Crying Face )

got to meet everyone too. they’re lovely but all so  
TALL and BEAUTIFUL IM GONNA DIEEEE

it’s super intimidating. now i’m kinda nervous  
for the rest of the week T_T

and i miss youuuuu

I miss you, too, bud.

And don’t worry. You’re lovely and  
beautiful, too.

Tough luck on the tall part, though

ummm rude???

bless your heart (Pouting Face )(Pouting Face )(Pouting Face )

Bits. You’re gonna do great.

What’s that term that you use all the time? Slay?

Slay them all

oh mY GOD

DID YOU JUST

SjklkLXZNMNCMKLJ?????

jACK

(Winking Face )

Love you.

(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes ) (Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes )

love you toooooooo, number twooooo <3

call later?

I’m free right now if you are.

  


-

  


“Hello?”

“I’m literally going to die, Jack,” Bitty cries dramatically.

“Hi, Jack, how are you?” Jack deadpans, in lieu of a proper reply. He moves his laptop off to the side and settles back onto the pillows.

“Ugh,” Bitty says, still foregoing a proper greeting. “This is serious, Jack. I’m having a crisis. Everyone here is _so_ pretty.”

Jack squeezes his eyes shut before deciding what the hell. He’s been biting his tongue on all the compliments that veered on the side of flirty for too long. “So you fit right in,” he says. “What’s the problem?”

Bitty squawks in his ear. “You’re just saying that because you have to.”

Jack chuckles. “What do you want me to say? You’re hideous, Bittle. I have no idea how you even made it there,” he says solemnly.

“Jack!”

“ _Bits_.”

Bitty groans. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah.” Bitty exhales loudly. “I really do.”

Jack doesn’t even try to suppress his grin or the heat rising in his cheeks. He’s all alone in his apartment, in the privacy of his own bedroom, and no one will ever know, anyway. “Bittle. You’re beautiful, okay? You don’t ever have to doubt that,” he says.

“Yeah, well,” Bitty mutters. “Not everyone thinks so.”

“What?” Jack frowns. “Wait, is this about the Charlie thing? I told you, he’s an idiot, you’re—”

“No, no, no, Jack,” Bitty rushes, like he didn’t actually mean to say that last thing out loud. “It’s—I’m fine, I’m not even—”

“Bud,” Jack says. “You can’t avoid this forever.”

Bitty groans. “God, I shouldn’t even really be thinking about it! I’m at _New York Fashion Week_ , for Pete’s sake! And it’s not like we were going out or anything—I mean, obviously I had hoped that that’s what we were doing—and yeah, it kind of stings, to be honest? Not as much as I thought it would, but it still _does_ ,” he says. “I think mostly I just can’t believe that I did it again. Ugh, why am I like this? Why do I have to project my feelings onto my nearest, closest, hottest friend? First, you in college, and now—”

Jack allows Bitty to ramble on, listening carefully for any signs of distress until his brain short-circuits on that last part. He cannot have heard that correctly. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, lord.” Bitty shuts up abruptly, and then groans loudly. “Oh my _god_. Did I just say that to you with my own mouth?”

Jack laughs, but there’s a nervous edge to it. “Um, what?”

There’s a long pause on Bitty’s end, followed by small thump that Jack wants to question before Bitty speaks up again. “Okay. Lord, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. But you have to promise not to freak, okay?”

Jack takes a steadying breath, reclining on his bed. “Bitty,” is about all he manages. He’s bracing himself for something wonderful and terrifying.

“I…wow, this is kind of ridiculous after hearing it from Charlie, huh?” Bitty breathes a laugh. “I had a crush on you in college, okay? Like, the size of Jupiter. It’s honestly amazing that you never picked up on it.”

And Jack. Jack’s kind of speechless. His fingertips buzz and his chest wants to explode with the overwhelming feeling of hope and he’s so thankful he’s starfished on his bed right now because he’s so sure his legs would have given out if he wasn’t. _Bitty had a crush on him in college_. _The size of Jupiter._

Jack might actually have a bigger chance than he thought.

He stays quiet for so long, overwhelmed with the rush of emotion that he feels everywhere, that when Bitty speaks again, he sounds a little panicked. “I mean, obviously, it’s been a while—”

“No, Bitty,” Jack says, grinning like a maniac and hoping Bitty can hear it. “Bits.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll see you soon,” Jack says, an exhilarated laugh bubbling out of his chest as he sits up on his bed. He wants to say a lot of things— _everything_ —but decides against it in favor of everything he’s planned out in the last twelve hours. Instead, he settles for repeating: “I’ll see you soon.”

“What?” Bitty says, sounding increasingly confused, but not defensive. Jack doesn’t know what he would do if Bitty suddenly turned defensive. “What do you mean—”

Jack shakes his head. “I’ll text you. I promise.”

“Jack, what—”

“I love you,” Jack hears himself say, suddenly feeling bold, and it sounds like he’s never said anything truer. “I’ll explain later.”

“O…kay?” Bitty says carefully. “Love you, too…?”

“Bye,” Jack says, and he has to hang up now before he says something else completely stupid and out of context, or before Bitty says something else to make him change his mind. He ends the call and flops back down on his bed, still reeling from Bitty’s slip.

He thinks back to all their coffee dates ( _dates???_ ) at Annie’s, butter runs, doing homework in the kitchen, hanging out on the roof during kegsters, their late night phone calls, every single godforsaken morning they had checking practice, and feels like an idiot. He could have had this so much sooner.

He can’t handle not having this a second longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he’s not known as jack "works harder than god" zimmermann for nothing WAHAHAHA
> 
> sooooo things are happening next chapter!!! also i'm thinking this build up ran a little longer than i'd anticipated so there might be an extra chapter, but we'll see how it turns out after i've written everything. again, thanks so much for reading!!! <3


	6. date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up: i bumped the rating up to M for (kinda super vague) implied sex/allusions to sex, but nothing super graphic!

“So here’s a funny story,” Bitty says breathlessly, and Jack laughs because he already knows what it is. “I saw your mom at the Raf Simons fitting earlier today.”

Jack, in fact, is staring at his mother right now where she’s perched on the hotel room sofa, looking at her phone and pointedly pretending not to listen. “No way,” he says dryly. “My mom? A former model? At Fashion Week?”

“Don’t you sass me, Zimmermann,” Bitty says, tone playful. “I haven’t had a meal since breakfast and y’all know how I get when I’m hangry.”

Jack bites back a chuckle. “Sorry. How are you even calling me right now?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Aren’t you supposed to be running around like a headless chicken? Your show’s in two hours.”

“I’m on my way there right now, actually,” Bitty says. “Just wanted to check in. I was going to text you, but I probably won’t be able to get back to you until later, so—and oh! Congrats on the win against the Caps! Jacobsen looks like he’s really settling in, huh?”

Jack grins. “He’s my rookie, what can I say?” he jokes.

Bitty laughs. “My, my! So humble.”

“No, but seriously,” Jack says. “The kid’s got soft hands and a really good eye. Not unlike another speedy winger I know.” He feels his face heat a little as he lets the words go. Flirting feels like second nature, now that he knows his intentions.

“Well, then, he’s lucky to have you,” Bitty says, and Jack valiantly fights to keep his expression neutral. Across the room, Alicia is now openly watching him, hiding a smile behind her phone.

They talk hockey for a while until Bitty has to go, and after they hang up, Jack suddenly becomes aware of the ridiculous grin on his face. He schools his expression into a more passive one and crosses the room to sit next to his mother, slumping down to rest his head on her shoulder. Alicia reaches up to pat his cheek gently.

“Does he know you’re here yet?” she asks, putting her phone down on her lap.

“Nope,” Jack says, popping the p. “Just mentioned the Raf Simons thing.”

“Good,” Alicia says. “I was a little worried he saw right through me.”

Jack cracks a smile. He’d been relieved, too, that Bitty hadn’t put two and two together. After his excited promise to Bitty that he would see him soon, he had to come up with some lame excuse to visit LA next month to cover up for the fact that he was planning to surprise him in New York in two days. He’d texted Bitty later that night with an (admittedly weak, hockey-related) explanation which he had thankfully accepted with no further questions, and that was the end of that.

Earlier that day, his mother had been genuinely surprised to run into Bitty at that fitting, but she, unlike Jack, is a seasoned Hollywood actress, so she probably had no trouble skating around the topic of Jack’s exact plans and whereabouts for the next few hours.

Jack sighs. “What were you doing on your phone, anyway?” he asks, shifting his position to look at his mother.

Alicia smirks, unlocking her phone and holding it up so Jack can see… a picture of himself grinning like an idiot, taken not two minutes ago. He groans, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Love looks good on you, sweetheart,” Alicia comments nonchalantly. “But you know what would look better?”

Jack snorts. “What?”

“Gucci,” his mother says, patting his knee. “C’mon, let’s go get you dressed.”

In the end, Jack ends up in a pretty comfortable outfit that’s not unlike his usual game day get-up—a checked flannel suit and a white polo. Of course, this particular outfit is probably leagues more expensive than most of his suits in Providence, the polo is a little more fitted than he’s used to, and he’s not even wearing socks, but his mother had insisted that he looked fantastic. She had also insisted on slicking back his hair, which Jack had originally vetoed, but Alicia wouldn’t let it go.

“Mother knows best,” Alicia had sing-songed, and really, Jack can’t argue with that.

He just hopes Bitty thinks so, too.

  


-

  


Jack had not been to a fashion show in almost twenty years, and he’d honestly forgotten how quickly it all goes by.

They get to the venue early and take their seats on the second row to the left of the runway. It starts later than it’s supposed to, so Jack spends an extra ten minutes fiddling with his phone and trying to tamp down his nerves.

“It’s an unwritten rule,” Alicia explains, “that fashion shows simply cannot start on time.”

Jack feels some of the tension leave his chest. “Is that why they call it fashionably late?”

Alicia laughs. “Your father would love that.”

Of course, that’s the exact moment the lights dim and upbeat music starts playing. Jack tries to focus on each model who comes out, but the second Bitty first steps into the light, he feels his mouth dry instantly.

Bitty is so gorgeous, he might actually be glowing.

His hair is blown back stylishly, and he’s wearing an oversized red, blue, yellow, and green polo shirt tucked into cropped khaki pants, showing off his narrow waist and making him appear taller than he really is. He strides forward with purpose and swagger, chin up and eyes forward. Even with his expression artfully neutral, he exudes confidence and charisma.

Alicia reaches for his hand and squeezes it, and Jack feels his chest swell with pride and love.

He spends the rest of the show alternating between openly ogling Bitty (because what else are fashion shows for?) and impatiently waiting for Bitty to come out again. He does, twice more in different outfits, and Jack’s breath catches every time anyway.

Before he knows it, Tommy Hilfiger himself is walking out on the runway with the same model who opened the show. Bitty comes out one last time, this time sporting a smile and clapping, and then it’s over.

Jack leans back into his seat—he hadn’t remembered leaning forward at all—and Alicia beams at him. “Let’s go?” she says, cocking her head in the direction of backstage.

Jack takes a deep breath and nods. “Let’s go.”

  


-

  


Jack walks into the dressing room just in time to see Bitty’s reaction reflected in the mirror when he first sees the huge arrangement of flowers sitting on his vanity. Jack really needs to thank his mom properly after all this, because it’s a tastefully elegant bouquet—one that he could never have chosen on his own.

Bitty’s mouth falls open silently, taking in the roses, and their eyes meet in the mirror. Jack smiles sheepishly at Bitty’s reflection, gesturing to the flowers. “You like ‘em?” he says, internally wincing at the quiver of his voice, and Bitty gasps loudly before all but jumping into Jack’s arms. Jack catches him easily, and Bitty locks his arms around his neck.

“You lying _liar!_ ” Bitty shrieks into his ear. “You said next month!”

“I _will_ be in LA next month,” Jack says, tightening his hold around Bitty’s waist. “We play the Kings on the fifteenth.”

“Oh my god.” Bitty buries his face in his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here. Jack, oh my god!”

Jack breathes Bitty in, feeling a little lightheaded, before pulling away to look at him. He fits his palm around Bitty’s cheek gently, grinning uncontrollably. “Bits.”

Bitty looks up at him openly, eyes wide and beautifully bright. Jack’s suddenly filled with the overwhelming need to kiss him. And fuck it—

He does.

Bitty stills immediately, arms stiffening, and Jack pulls away in a panic, just far enough for Bitty to pull him back down roughly and kiss him again.

And it’s—God, it’s unlike anything Jack’s ever experienced before. It’s completely new, the sensation of Bitty’s lips on his, but it’s also so easy, so familiar—like a homecoming. Like breathing. Like he’s always known what this would feel like and how to do it.

Jack’s skin is singing, and his scalp is buzzing, and _Bitty is kissing him back_. The relief he feels is nothing compared to the joy that inflates his chest. The soft slide of Bitty’s lips, his fingers lightly grazing the nape of his neck, every single point of contact burning—it’s all too good, and he never wants to stop.

Bitty is the one to pull away first, grinning wildly up at Jack. “Wow,” he says, and Jack can’t stop staring at his reddened lips.

“Wow,” Jack agrees, leaning down to peck his lips again just because he can. “You were amazing, Bits,” he says seriously, brushing his thumb over his cheek. “You’re gorgeous.”

Bitty giggles, pressing his grin into Jack’s palm. “You’re not so bad yourself, mister,” he says, and Jack sees his eyes shift to just over his shoulder for a second before he stills again. “Oh my god,” he says, burying his face in Jack’s shoulder.

“What?” Jack says, glancing behind him to find his mom smiling knowingly, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. He groans loudly. “Jeez, maman.”

Alicia laughs brightly. “Jack, dear, you’ll wrinkle Bitty’s clothes,” she chides playfully, and Jack sheepishly loosens his death grip around Bitty’s waist, stepping away to stand by his side. “You were phenomenal, by the way, darling,” she adds, winking at Bitty.

Bitty’s cheeks pink prettily. “Thank you, ma’am,” he says, ducking his head a little.

Jack grins, looking down at Bitty. “Hey.” He grabs his hand to get his attention. “You free for dinner?”

Bitty glances at Alicia, as if asking for permission, and she smiles at him encouragingly. “I have a dinner party to attend, so Jack here was banking on you.”

Jack watches Bitty’s smile stretch slowly over his face. “Yeah, I’m free,” he says. “Let me get changed first?” he says, sounding a little dazed.

Jack laughs, feeling his cheeks heat at the clearly inappropriate reply that pops up in his head. “I’ll wait outside,” he says dumbly.

“Promise?” Bitty says, biting his lip.

From the doorway, Alicia snickers, but Jack’s too busy staring at Bitty to really care.

“Promise,” Jack says, winking at him before releasing his hand.

  


-

  


Bitty demands that Jack explain himself on their way to the restaurant, which is blessedly only a few blocks away from the venue, so they walk together, bumping hands and shoulders with increasing frequency. After Bitty got changed into his street clothes, it was easy to establish that they were on the same page—yes, Jack had meant the flowers and the kiss and the dinner invitation _like that_ , and yes, Bitty wanted all that and everything else—but he still insisted on a more detailed elaboration.

“So let me get this straight,” Bitty says again, like he hadn’t clarified it twice already. “You’ve liked me for months and you only just now decided to say so?”

Jack shakes his head, laughing incredulously. “What part of ‘you liked someone else and I wanted you to be happy’ don’t you understand?” he says.

“The part where _you_ don’t understand that _you’re_ what makes me happy,” Bitty answers easily, nudging Jack playfully.

Jack shoulders him back, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks at Bitty’s open declaration. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t exactly the message I was getting when you were all Charlie this, Charlie that,” he says, scoffing.

Bitty runs a hand through his hair, shaking it out with a laugh. It’s a new tick, something Jack hadn’t been around to see form, and he files it away in his brain for safekeeping. “I think I was trying to make you jealous without even realizing it,” Bitty admits, shoving his hands in his pockets and pointedly not looking at Jack. “I mean, I really did like Charlie, or I thought I did, but maybe I was projecting a little?”

Jacks raises his eyebrows questioningly. “Projecting your feelings onto him?”

Bitty purses his lips. “Projecting my feelings… for you… onto him?” he says, breathing a laugh. “I mean, you weren’t around so—is that crazy? Did it work?”

“ _Did it work_ ,” Jack repeats mockingly, shaking his head. “What do you think? I was losing my goddamn mind!” He shoots Bitty a small smile. “Besides, last I checked, you were the one with the crush the size of Jupiter in college,” he says, half-teasing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Lord,” Bitty throws his hands in the air in fond exasperation. “I thought you were straight!”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack says, cringing. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“And then by the time you came out to me, I thought I’d finally convinced myself I was over you,” Bitty continues, glancing at Jack. “I mean, clearly, that never happened, because honestly? I missed you somethin’ fierce, sweetpea. You have no idea.”

Jack bumps hands with Bitty intentionally. “I really missed you, too, bud,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Bitty shakes his head decisively. “So it’s both of our faults, then,” he says, glancing over to grin at Jack. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“Guess not.” Jack hooks his pinky finger onto Bitty’s and watches their arms swing together as they walk. “Or maybe it’s Charlie’s fault,” he supplies, half-joking. “He’s the one who got in the way, eh?”

“Wait.” Bitty stops walking and turns to Jack, his expression suddenly serious. “Would you have really not said anything? If I had ended up with Charlie?”

Jack stops to face him, frowning. “If he really made you happy, yeah, I guess,” he says, shrugging.

He’d never really verbalized it, but it that moment, he knew it to be true.

Bitty’s expression softens into a giddy smile, and he slaps Jack on the chest with the back of his hand. “You’re a dork,” he declares, crossing his arms with a goofy smile. “Where are you taking me anyway?”

Jack smirks devilishly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Bitty clutches at his imaginary pearls. “Why, indeed, I would!” he says, hamming up his accent for full effect.

Jack laughs as he stops walking and holds an arm out in front of Bitty. “Great, ‘cause we’re here,” he says, jerking his thumb at the restaurant to their right. Jack watches Bitty eye the nondescript storefront curiously and sees the exact moment he recognizes the peach logo. “I hope you’re hungry,” he says. “It’s a fifteen-course meal.”

Bitty turns to Jack, eyes and mouth perfectly round. “You did _not_.”

Jack steps forward, holding the door open for him. “Maybe I did.”

If his smile is a little self-satisfied as they enter the restaurant, he thinks he kind of deserves it.

  


-

  


“Mmmffhh,” Bitty moans, eyes falling shut.

“Good?” Jack says hopefully, watching Bitty closely.

Bitty manages a strangled affirmation, nodding frantically. “Jack, oh my god. Just put it in your mouth already.”

Jack snorts a laugh before digging in.

They’re on their fifth course, which is an uni and chickpea puree, according to their tasting menu. It doesn’t sound like it should work, but it really, really does. Jack has to restrain himself from moaning just like Bitty did, because even though they’re tucked into a corner booth, he doesn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.

Of course, most everything they’d tried so far had been really delicious, and Jack had catalogued every single borderline indecent sound Bitty had made on each first bite—you know, for future reference.

“Hey, this is kind of insane for a first date, right?” Bitty says, poised to eat another spoonful. “Usually it’s coffee, or dinner and a movie or something.”

Jack raises an eyebrow at Bitty. “We’ve done that plenty of times before, though,” he says. “Thought you might want to try something new.”

Bitty’s mouth falls open in shock. “Oh my goodness, we totally have!” He widens his eyes at Jack. “Did you know?”

“I realized the other day, when you told me you had a crush on me in college.” Jack gently kicks Bitty under the table. “The size of Jupiter,” he adds cheekily.

Bitty groans. “God, you’re never going to let me live that down, huh?” he says, kicking back with a grin. Jack feels Bitty press his shoe against his, and he realizes at that moment that, _holy shit_ , they’d even been playing footsie for years without realizing it.

“It’s a very nice sentiment,” Jack admits, feeling his cheeks heat. “You couldn’t tell I was thrilled when you admitted it?”

Bitty lets out a surprised laugh. “I could tell you were thrilled about _something_. I didn’t want to assume it was about me!” He rests his elbows on the table, clasping his fingers and leaning forward. “You scared me for a second there, Jack. Seriously.”

Jack mirrors his position, resting his forearms on the table. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it was too soon,” he says seriously. “You seemed really stressed about the whole…Charlie thing.” He unconsciously pulls a face, which makes Bitty laugh. “I didn’t want to just suddenly throw myself at you when you were still vulnerable.”

Bitty stares at Jack for a moment, looking a little dumbstruck, before hiding his face in his hands bashfully. “Uuuugh, why are you so good at reading me?” he says, almost petulantly.  “It’s not fair!”

Jack grins, reaching across the table to pull Bitty’s hands away from his face. “Years of practice, bud.”

Bitty looks up at him from under his long lashes. His mouth is pressed into a hard line but his eyes are giving him away, and Jack loves him so much. “So we’re doing this?” he says.

“We’re doing this,” Jack confirms, intertwining their fingers on top of the table for full effect.

Bitty beams down at their joined hands for a few moments before his eyebrows knit. “Wait, we can’t—” he starts, whipping his head up to look at Jack and then around the restaurant.

Jack feels him start pulling his hands away, so he tightens his grip slightly. “Bits, it’s okay.”

“No, not here—people might see—”

Jack hadn’t even realized that was a problem—honestly, he was having trouble thinking about anything other than Bitty at the moment—so that catches him off-guard. He’d been so openly affectionate tonight, touching Bitty whenever he could get away with it, that he forgot that it was kind of a big deal.

“No, Bits, look at me,” he says, tugging on his hands. Bitty looks up at Jack with a flustered expression. “It’s fine. I promise.”

“Jack,” Bitty says, expression softening. “You’re not out.”

“But I will be,” Jack counters easily. “I’m coming out before the season starts. Next week, if you’re game.”

“No, we can’t—wait, what?” Bitty’s eyes bug out at him comically, and Jack laughs at how adorable it is.

“Come on, I wasn’t going to do this and not be all-in about it,” Jack confesses, raising his eyebrows at Bitty meaningfully. “You know me better than that.”

This was the exact concern he presented to Georgia the other day, and the reason he’d bargained so hard to come out earlier than at the end of their season. Immediately, even. (He was gunning for yesterday, actually, but Georgia shut that down as soon as the words were out of his mouth.) He’d thought about what Shitty said, how it was so obvious on his face whenever he looked at Bitty, and knew that if they were ever going to be together, it would be simply impossible for him to hide how stupidly happy he was.

And the thing is, he _is_ stupidly happy right now, watching Bitty be stunned into silence with a huge grin plastered onto his face. Bitty jumps up in his seat slightly, pulling his hands away to press them to his cheeks. “You mean you’re—”

Jack nods, cutting him off. “Yep.”

Bitty’s smile impossibly widens. “For real?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But—you’re not doing it just for me, right?” Bitty’s expression dims slightly, but Jack knows him well enough to catch it.

“Oh, no,” Jack says, shaking his head and reaching for Bitty’s hands again. The warm weight of them acts as a grounding force. “No, we’ve had a timeline for months,” he explains. “I just—I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, you know? It was originally going to be at the end of the season, but I told them we needed to move it up a little. I mean, in light of recent events.” He smiles down at their hands on the table. “I want to be able to be with you. Properly.”

Of all the things he’s said so far, this seems to be the one to do Bitty in. He lets out a startled laugh, staring at Jack in disbelief. Jack feels his face start to redden under his gaze, and he suddenly feels the need to keep explaining. “I mean—I’m sorry I didn’t tell you? If that’s what you’re mad about—”

“Oh, for the love of—honey, I’m not mad!” Bitty exclaims, gripping Jack’s fingers tightly. A small laugh bubbles out of him, like he still can’t believe what’s happening. “You ridiculous moose, how could I be mad? Jack, that’s amazing!”

Bitty’s enthusiasm is contagious, and Jack feels it in his fingertips. “I mean, I guess? But it’s going to be a lot and I understand if you—”

“Heavens, no!” Bitty says immediately, shutting him up with a scoff. “Do you not understand how long I’ve wanted this? I finally get to show you off to the entire world! As my boyfriend!”

Jack laughs, relieved. “For the record, I think it’s very much the other way around,” he says. “You’re the one who’s fresh off the catwalk, after all.”

Bitty rolls his eyes playfully. “Oh, please, we can argue about who’s the trophy husband later,” he says, waving away the discussion carelessly.

Bitty doesn’t seem to realize what he’s just said, but Jack feels the word _husband_ explode in his chest and aches with how right it sounds. He’s not equipped with the vocabulary to respond to that just yet, but he does manage a small breathless laugh.

“Lord.” Bitty shakes his head, finally seeming to grasp what Jack is saying. He looks at Jack, eyes kind and fond. “And you’re sure about this?”

“Yes,” Jack promises, nodding firmly. “It’s time.”

Bitty smiles at him radiantly. He retracts one hand to pick up his spoon, but keeps the other firmly clasping Jack’s on the table.  “I’m so proud of you, honey,” he says sincerely. “You’re going to change so many people’s lives.”

Jack watches Bitty take another bite, and thinks about how his own life is about to change drastically, how it already has. He’s surprised when he feels not a pang of anxiety, but a gentle swoop in his gut. For once, it’s excitement and not dread that fills him as he thinks about the future.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “Yeah.”

  


-

  


“Am I going crazy or does this actually say skate?” Bitty says, pointing at a word on his menu.

Jack looks at the menu, and then down at the dish in front of him. “Yeah, that definitely says skate,” he says, laughing. “Can’t catch a break, huh?”

Bitty sticks his tongue out at Jack. “But what is it?”

“Bud, if you don’t know what it is, there’s no way I do.”

“But you’re the one who eats at fancy restaurants and stuff!” Bitty says accusingly, jabbing his fork in Jack’s direction.

Jack shakes his head. “The only skates I know of are the knife shoes people wear on the ice,” he says, half-seriously. He really has never heard of, let alone tasted, skate as a food.

“Huh,” Bitty says. He lifts a forkful and sniffs it before putting it in his mouth, chewing carefully. He keeps eye contact with Jack the entire time, and Jack has to try hard to keep a straight face.

“So it’s fish,” Bitty declares finally, setting his fork down.

Jack nods seriously. “Is it any good?”

Bitty finally cracks a smile. “Almost as good as the knife shoes.”

  


-

  


“But… this is burnt?” Jack says, poking at the black grilled duck with his fork.

Bitty eyes the dish curiously. “It looks like your first pie for Atley’s class!” he chirps as he cuts into the meat.

It turns out the duck, very much unlike Jack’s first attempt at an apple pie, is not burnt. It’s crispy and juicy and perfectly tender, and it’s the best course of the meal so far.

“It’s like you, then,” Bitty declares with a smile. “All burnt and scary-looking on the outside, but actually soft on the inside.”

Jack snickers. “Did you just call me a piece of meat?” he says.

“Of course not!” Bitty says, scandalized. “You’re at least two pieces,” he adds, winking exaggeratedly.

  


-

  


“Jack.”

“Yeah?” Jack looks up at Bitty, whose features are twisted in the same way they are when he accidentally comes into contact with the Haus couch.

“Please tell me you taste it, too.” Bitty glares at the small bowl in front of him like it had personally offended him.

Jack laughs. He’d been trying to keep a straight face since his first bite of the wild rice ice cream with candied kombu, because no matter how fancy and refined the name sounds, it tastes anything but.

“It tastes like I accidentally ate dirt,” Bitty whispers, and he starts cracking up hysterically. “I feel like a cow,” he wheezes.

Jack snorts a laugh. “Cows don’t eat dirt.”

Bitty sobers at that, suddenly turning a glare at him. “Cows eat _grass_ , which are planted in _dirt_ , which means they accidentally eat dirt all the time, which is what this actually tastes like. So.”

Jack shakes his head, chuckling. “You think this is worse than the sorbet earlier?”

Bitty considers, tapping his index finger on his chin the way he always does when he’s ‘thinking’. (Jack secretly loves it and thinks it’s the cutest thing.) “The sorbet was pretty good, actually, now that I think about it. I mean, at least it wasn’t like I _accidentally ate dirt._ ” Bitty falls into another fit of giggles.

“Moo,” Jack quips a few minutes later, after they’ve both calmed down a litte. Bitty almost chokes on his water from laughing so hard.

They must look like a couple of idiots, randomly mooing at each other at a reservation-only restaurant with a $255 tasting menu, but Jack honestly couldn’t care less.

  


-

  


Later, as they bask in the afterglow of the amazing meal they just had, they’re hit with the sobering reality of late-night New York City. The sounds and sights aren’t a huge departure from Providence, and it’s a beautiful night, really, but the streets are unfamiliar and intimidating.

Neither of them are from here, and neither of them can stay.

“So,” Bitty says, turning to Jack with a smile as they step out onto the street. “Your place or mine?”

Jack grins down at Bitty. “I think we might have to take a cab if we’re going to my hotel,” he says, reaching for Bitty’s hand as they walk.

“Okay, so mine, then,” Bitty smirks mischievously. “I’m only a few blocks from here, I think.”

“When do you fly out?” Jack asks casually, and then it seems to hit them at the same time: their time together has a deadline, and it’s coming up real soon.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Bitty says slowly, like he’s just realizing it. “Flight’s at 3.”

Jack nods. “Mine’s tomorrow night, so it’s not that bad,” he says, trying to make up for the fact that he brought it up in the first place, but it’s too late. Reality had already reared its ugly head.

Tomorrow night, they’ll be back in their own cities, on opposite coasts. It’s unfair, Jack thinks, how quickly he has to let Bitty go when he’s finally, _finally_ got him. He gets tonight and tomorrow morning, and then it’s another month until he gets any more.

Bitty sighs. “We should probably talk about that, huh?”

Jack feels a small spike of worry in the back of his mind. “You’re okay with long distance, right?”

Bitty shrugs. “I don’t think we have a choice here, sweetpea.”

Jack frowns. “But, like, if you’re not comfortable—”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” Bitty says, cutting him off. “If you think I’m gonna let you slip through my fingers just because we’ve got some distance between us, you are terribly mistaken.” His tone is stern: captain voice activated. No room for argument.

Not that Jack’s about to argue when there’s a warm sensation spreading across his chest from Bitty’s words. “Okay,” he says as he presses a kiss to Bitty’s knuckles. “We’ll figure it out.”

They talk strategy on their way to Bitty’s hotel: texting and calling and Facetiming, work schedules, when they can fly out next, where they can meet halfway. They even cover clothes sharing (“As if you didn’t already steal my red flannel. I’m onto you, you know.” “One isn’t enough!”) and Skype sex (“You haven’t tried it?” “Who would I have tried it with, Bits?” “I don’t know! You don’t tell me about your sexcapades!” “Telling you about my sexcapades would imply I ever had any. And please never use the word ‘sexcapades’ again.”).

By the time they reach Bitty’s hotel, which turns out to be a really posh boutique hotel in East Village, they’ve worked out a whole game plan to test run over the next few weeks. It probably shouldn’t have surprised Jack, given that they were both captains of their hockey team at some point. There’s a small voice in the back of Jack’s mind saying this has been too easy, that it’s only a matter of time until the other shoe drops, but it eases a lot of his anxieties about how they would handle the distance, knowing that Bitty is right there with him, ready and willing to make it work.

It also really helps that most of their plan consisted of things they’d already been doing for years.

It had been an easy and comfortable walk, with the street sounds and late night conversations on the street providing white noise to their conversation, but the second they enter the hotel elevator and they’re finally perfectly alone, the air between them seems to shift.

Jack feels Bitty’s closeness, and it’s suddenly not enough.

Apparently, Bitty feels the same way, because the second Jack steps into his room, Bitty is immediately pushing him against the door and pulling him down for a scorching kiss. It’s utterly filthy, lips and teeth and tongue, and Jack feels Bitty’s hands slide into his hair. He bends his knees to get a better angle but it doesn’t work, so he turns them around to pin Bitty to the door. Jack kisses him with urgency and intent, and Bitty responds in kind.

“Fuck, Bitty,” he breathes, and he feels Bitty smirk against his mouth.

“That’s the idea, sugar,” Bitty says playfully, nipping down Jack’s jaw.

And this—this is new. It’s been a while since Jack had been this attracted to anyone, if ever, and it’s a little shocking but definitely not unwelcome. He had never really allowed himself to entertain this sort of fantasy because he thought it was completely impossible and therefore not worth indulging.

Because let’s face it: Bitty is hot. Logically, Jack’s known this for years—he’ll even admit it really was the sight of him in those tiny blue shorts that had him tripping on the Haus steps his senior year—but it’s only now that he’s allowing that thought to manifest into something more. Bitty had looked gorgeous all night, stylishly dressed in a printed button-down shirt paired with a denim jacket and extremely flattering jeans, but suddenly it’s too much clothing and not enough skin.

Bitty seems to have the same idea, because he moves his hands under Jack’s suit jacket to slide it off his shoulders. Jack copies the movement, pushing Bitty’s jacket off before he reaches for the first button of Bitty’s shirt, pulling away to look at him questioningly.

Bitty answers with a grin, tugging on the hem of Jack’s polo. “Off,” he says impatiently, and Jack can’t help but agree.

Off they go.

  


-

  


They make it to bed. Eventually.

Their legs are tangled underneath the sheets, and Bitty’s head is pillowed on Jack’s bare chest, and Jack is idly tracing circles on Bitty’s hip. There’s a random romcom that Bitty likes playing on the TV, and the floor-to-ceiling windows of his room present a spectacular view of the city, but Jack is only interested in watching Bitty’s face.

“Isn’t this weird?” Bitty asks suddenly, looking up at Jack. “It’s like nothing changed. We’re still sitting here, talking and watching Netflix at 2 AM.”

Jack purses his lips slightly, considering. “Well, some things have changed,” he says. “For instance, I can do this now.” He leans down and pecks Bitty gently on the lips.

Bitty opens his eyes slowly, smiling. “Oh, yeah?”

Jack hums the affirmative. “And this, too.” This time, he opens his mouth as he kisses him, teasing Bitty’s lips with his tongue and pressing more urgently. He feels Bitty smile into the kiss, sliding a hand onto his cheek.

Bitty is breathless when he pulls away, eyes still blissfully closed. “What else?”

Grinning dopily, Jack brushes Bitty’s bangs to the side.  He presses soft kisses onto Bitty’s eyelids, the tip of his nose, the apples of his cheeks, and the underside of his jaw.

“I love you,” he says carefully, trying it out. They’d been saying this to each other for years, but tonight, Bitty finally gets to hear it the way he really means.

Bitty’s eyes fly open, and they’re the most beautiful thing Jack has ever seen. “I love you, too,” he says, and the look on his face is pure, unbridled joy.

It feels like revelation and recognition, all at once.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jack says thoughtfully, brushing his thumb lightly over Bitty’s lips. “Maybe nothing’s changed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STEP ASIDE, BAD BOB. ALICIA ZIMMERMANN IS THE BEST WING WOMAN. IT IS KNOWN.
> 
> long chapter, so kind of long notes:  
> \- also i can’t believe i forgot to mention but this whole entire fic was basically based off of the fact that i live for bitty wearing designer clothes, and [this thing](http://zimmerhomme.tumblr.com/post/169247501987/my-boy-bitty-is-a-fashion-boi-and-his-rich-hunky) that i drew months ago was just not enough to quench my thirst  
> \- that said, i don’t claim to know anything about fashion so i made bitty’s outfit up based on past hilfiger collections LOL it looked nice in my head anyway  
> \- i also don’t know how dressing rooms work in nyfw and i couldn’t be bothered to do some research so i took some artistic liberties here because i wanted them to be alone wee  
> \- here’s the menu that i used as a reference [[x](http://www.sandiegomagazine.com/Blogs/SD-Food-News/Winter-2018/From-Brilliant-to-Disturbing-Momofuku-Ko-Is-Worth-the-Trip)], if any of you were curious! i'm pretty sure their menu changes all the time but this seemed like a good sample of food lol  
> \- the line about jack being at least 2 pieces of meat is 100% not mine, it’s lifted from a drawing by gale galligan (@robochai) that’s in huddle 1 because it fit the moment perfectly and it’s so funny 
> 
> anyway i hope this ~6k of fluff makes up for all the pining in the last chapter!! this is basically the end of the story but i’ll have an epilogue-ish thing up hopefully in the next week or so!! thank you so much for reading and leaving lovely comments and kudos <3 this was my first chaptered fic in a very long time and it was so much fun to write! also a huuuge thank you to [notenoughgatorade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughgatorade) for the help!! you’re a legend!!


	7. home (again)

Jack wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing. Loudly.

It’s late—or way too early, by his standards, especially since it’s the off-season—so he doesn’t even bother picking his head up and opening his eyes, instead blindly feeling for his phone to press it to his ear.

“Allo?” he says, barely able to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Jack! Jack, honey, I got it!”

Jack’s eyes fly open at Bitty’s excited tone. “What?”

“I got it,” Bitty repeats in his ear. “They said yes. Jack, I’m moving to New York!”

Just the week before, Bitty had learned that his agent had been trying to lock in a long-term contract with Calvin Klein. He had become interested in other aspects of the fashion industry beyond modelling, starting to immerse himself in various fields every chance he got, and this was the perfect opportunity to expand his horizons. They’d been going back and forth with negotiations for a few days, but the people at Calvin Klein had one major concern: they were based out in New York, while Bitty currently lived in California. Or so he had told Jack a few days ago.

Clearly, this was no longer going to be an issue.

“For real?” Jack says again, flipping himself so that he’s grinning stupidly at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. Now he’s completely awake.

“Effective next month,” Bitty continues happily, like it’s not ass o’clock in the morning. “But Maya says I can start moving my stuff as soon as next week. I mean, it’s still a bit far from you but—”

“Not that far,” Jack finishes for him, matching his enthusiasm. “Bits, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” Bitty says. “I figured, you know, it’s a step up! And all’a y’all are back there, so why do I have to keep trying to find friends when I already have everything I need out on the East coast, you know?”

Jack _does_ know, given the multiple conversations they’ve had discussing exactly that. He’d always thought that it was just a matter of time until Bitty finally found his footing in LA, but this also sounds like a more real closure to Bitty’s dilemma—like maybe New York, not California, was really where he was meant to be. He feels a swell of pride and affection in his chest. “Baby, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I’m proud of me, too,” Bitty says. “I mean, the weather will be a problem ‘cause I’ve gotten so used to living in the sun again, but—” he sighs dramatically, "I guess I’ll just need someone to warm me up.”

Jack smiles. “I think I might know someone who can help with that,” he supplies cheekily.

“You’re right,” Bitty says, and Jack braces himself for the oncoming chirp. “I’ll call Shitty.”

Jack chokes out a laugh in surprise. “ _Excuse_ me?”

Bitty laughs too, but the sound fades slightly, like he’s moving away from his phone. After a beat, Bitty’s voice returns. “Sorry, sweetpea, Maya’s calling,” he says, tone apologetic. “Says it’s urgent. I’ll call you back immediately after, though, 'kay?”

“'Kay,” Jack parrots. “Bits.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you so much,” Jack says simply, barely able to contain his grin. “I’m so excited for you.”

“I love you, too,” Bitty replies, and Jack thinks he can hear Bitty grinning like a fool, too. “You know you’re my favorite space heater.”

 

 

-

 

 

It’s been a good nine months or so since Jack Zimmermann kissed Eric Bittle for the first time.

It’s been a _really_ good nine months.

Of course, those nine months had been kickstarted with Jack publicly coming out as bisexual and Jack _and Bitty_ publicly coming out as boyfriends two weeks after they officially got together and two weeks before the start of Jack’s season. They’d done it in a mostly quick and harmless manner—with matching Instagram posts uploaded at the same time. They’d written their own personal captions, but the picture was the same.

It was Bitty who originally proposed the idea. After Fashion Week, he’d decided to fly down to Providence with Jack to spend a week with him before going back to LA. They’d gone on a walk by the river, holding hands and making each other laugh, and in the middle of it, Bitty had whipped out his phone to take pictures.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said, pointing his phone at Jack.

Jack snorted. “Really? You want to talk about the weather?”

“Facts are facts, Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty replied, happily snapping pictures of his boyfriend. “Facts. Are. Facts.” He punctuated every word with a loud click from his phone.

Jack turned his back on him pointedly, attempting to hide his face from the camera. He had only managed a few steps before he felt Bitty suddenly jump onto his back, locking his arms around his neck and laughing wildly. The impact made Jack stumble a little. “What the—”

“Smile!” Bitty demanded, waving his phone in front of their faces. Jack glanced at the screen and then up at Bitty, deciding to press a kiss to his cheek instead. He felt more than saw the grin that spread on Bitty’s face as the shutter sounds went off a few more times.

“Perfect,” Bitty declared as he swiped through the pictures, hiking himself up higher to get a better look. Jack caught him by the thighs for extra support and continued walking, surreptitiously peeking at the phone to see the pictures.

“That one’s pretty good, eh?” he commented, referring to the one that Bitty had been looking at. The lighting was really nice, sunlight glinting off Bitty’s golden hair, and they both looked undeniably happy. Jack wasn’t used to seeing pictures of himself smile like this.

Bitty hummed in response. “You should post it on your Instagram,” he said.

“Huh,” was Jack’s only reply, as if he wasn’t already completely convinced at that exact moment that this would be the way he was going to come out to the world. “Maybe I will.”

Of course, their posts had been accompanied by a longer, more precise statement from Jack that the Falconers had released on his behalf, as well as tweets and posts from the organization expressing their utmost support for their captain and leading scorer. They had then spent the next few days together in Montreal, fielding millions of (mostly supportive and dutifully filtered) tweets and comments and receiving calls from various media outfits and non-profit organizations for interviews and appearances. To their credit, the Falcs had provided their support in any and every way they could, which both Jack and Bitty had greatly appreciated. Jack hated the attention, but valiantly endured any media interaction that was strictly necessary by the comforting presence of his boyfriend and parents.

Bitty and Jack had taken advantage of the week they had together, staying up until morning and talking about nothing and everything, _doing_ nothing and everything. It felt a lot like a reprisal of Jack’s senior year, jogging and having coffee and skating and watching movies and baking with Bitty, but with the added bonus of kisses and cuddles and really amazing sex.

“Just like checking practice, eh?” Jack had asked Bitty one morning as they watched the sun rise through the glass windows of Bob’s private rink. They’d decided to get up early for old times’ sake and shoot a few pucks, but they somehow ended up gathered by the boards, Jack bracketing Bitty to the glass like he’d done years before.

“I think I like this much better,” Bitty said, leaning up to kiss the smirk off of Jack’s face.

Jack kissed him back happily before skating backwards, holding his hand out. “This was how it all started though, wasn’t it?”

Bitty gave him a dazzling smile and took his hand. “You know, halfway through my sophomore year I had the wildest fantasies of you doing exactly what you just did right now?” He had a bright red blush staining his cheeks as he said this. “We were just friends then. Maybe even less, actually,” he said, mock-glaring at Jack. “You were just my moody captain who enjoyed torturing me at the ass crack of dawn.”

Jack laughed, pressing a kiss to the back of Bitty’s hand. “Well then, it turns out your fantasies were not so wild after all.” They glide slowly on the ice, and he shoves their intertwined fingers into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, just because he can. “Speaking of friends—you know how Shitty was here a few months ago?”

Bitty raised his eyebrows at the sudden topic change. “Yeah?”

“We were talking about you,” Jack admitted. “Right over there, actually.” He jerks his head in the direction of the far bench. “This was when we couldn’t catch each other on the phone, and he saw that you texted. Couldn’t believe that we went a month without talking.”

Bitty frowned at that. “Honestly, I couldn’t believe it either.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack shrugged. “He was just saying him and Lardo and the guys—they all missed you like crazy. They were even thinking of flying out to California to surprise you—”

Bitty’s mouth fell open. “But I told them—”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I nipped that one in the bud,” Jack assured him. “But… I do think you should go see them more often, if you can. I’m sure they’d love to have you over.”

Bitty nodded, thinking for a moment. “Do you… I mean, do you think they’re mad at me?” He bit his lip.

Jack stopped skating for a second to properly look at Bitty. “Why would they be mad at you?”

Bitty ducked his head sheepishly, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “I mean, I shut them out for a long time. It wasn’t fair to them.”

Jack felt his expression soften before he coaxed Bitty back into his arms. “Bud, they understand. That’s what Shitty was saying, actually. He gets why you needed to do it. They just… wished you hadn’t felt the need to.” He felt Bitty nod into his chest. “But hey, they still threw themselves at you the moment you walked through the door last week, didn’t they?”

Bitty laughed into Jack’s chest, a small aborted thing. “I missed them so much. I don’t know why I ever thought that was a good idea.”

“They missed you too, baby,” Jack assured him, pulling away but keeping an arm around Bitty’s shoulders. “I told Shitty about liking you on that trip, too.”

This time, it was Bitty who stopped to give Jack a questioning look. “Really? What did he say?”

“Well, it was more that I _hinted_ at liking someone and he immediately guessed it was you,” Jack laughed, shaking his head at the memory. “He was way too happy about it. Like, ten times more than was probably appropriate.”

Bitty shook his head fondly, squeezing Jack’s hand. “Shitty doesn’t know what appropriate means, sweetpea,” he said. “That boy’s whole existence is the definition of _in_ appropriate.”

“Speaking of inappropriate,” Jack said meaningfully, waggling his eyebrows. “Wanna hit the showers?”

“Jack Zimmermann, you absolute _horndog_ ,” Bitty admonished before breaking into a leery grin. “Lead the way.”

Their stay in Montreal had allowed Jack a short reprieve from the harsh reality of being an out bisexual man in a mostly homophobic sport dominated by rich straight white guys, but he had to go back to real life eventually. Needless to say, it had been quite the adjustment when he flew back to Providence without Bitty. He honestly had no idea how they’d survived a whole year and then some without seeing each other at all, when mere hours after they’d parted, Jack already missed him like a limb.

And then there was hockey—rougher hits and various slurs thrown at him from every direction—but that was a little easier, at least. More familiar. Something that he could use as fuel to play the best hockey he’s ever played. There’s also support, sometimes overwhelming in scale, which is always two parts exhilarating and one part terrifying. Either way, Jack racks up points like a machine, even more so on the days Bitty can fly out to watch him, which turns out to be pretty often. There are plenty of irritating questions that are completely unrelated to his sport during press time, and fan signs at away games that he had to eventually learn how to tune out, but the good greatly outweighed the bad.

Jack figured he’ll take what he can get.

Later, _much_ later, when he had confetti stuck to the sheen of sweat on his neck as he watched his team go wild with pride and unadulterated joy, a reporter asked him, “How do you plan on celebrating your second Cup win?”

He grinned at Bitty, standing just behind the cameraman with a matching smile plastered on his face, and said with conviction, “I’m taking Lord Stanley to Pride.”

 

 

-

 

 

Barely a minute had passed since Bitty last called, but Jack’s phone starts ringing obnoxiously again. He _really_ has to figure out how to put it on silent.

“That was fast,” Jack comments when the call connects.

“I told Maya she cut off Jack time,” Bitty laughs. “She backed off pretty quickly after we’d sorted things out. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure _what_ she thought we were doing.”

“Well, if you refer to talking to me as ‘Jack time’, I think I might have a pretty good idea was she thought we were doing.”

“ _Jack_.”

“Hey, your words, not mine,” Jack chuckles.

Bitty groans. “I actually hate you.”

“You love me,” Jack reminds him.

“And I wonder why sometimes, you know,” Bitty replies airily.

Jack raises an eyebrow, even though Bitty can’t see. “It’s not the money?”

“Oh my gosh, yes, of course! I love you for your money!” Bitty exclaims. “And that gorgeous kitchen of yours, how could I forget?”

Jack shakes his head fondly. “It’s your kitchen as much as it is mine.”

“You bet your award-winning ass it is, mister,” Bitty replies without missing a beat. “I’ll be down there every weekend just to make sure you don’t forget it.” Jack’s just about to reply with another chirp when Bitty suddenly gasps. “I just realized I don’t have to ship jam cross-country anymore!”

“Tater will be thrilled,” Jack laughs. “But hey, this also means you can come out to watch home games more often. I can watch your shows, we could visit the guys up in Boston...”

Bitty gasps again. “Oh my god, Jack—I can come home on weekends!” he squeals. His excitement is utterly contagious.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, lets the warm weight of the word _home_ settle in his chest. He pictures little pieces of the man he loves strewn all over his apartment, and tries to visualize how he’ll make space for himself in Bitty’s place, too. It’s sobering and breathtaking all at once. “Please come home.”

“Home,” Bitty echoes, and it sounds almost solemn, like he’s just realizing what that word means. “I like the sound of that.”

There’s a pause then, a fragile, contemplative thing, but it’s not heavy. It’s another thing Jack’s come to love about his relationship with Bitty: there is no more pretense, no need to fill silences with chatter. They know each other better than anyone else.

“Hey,” Bitty says after a while. “I’ve something else to tell you.”

“What is it?” Jack says, sitting up slightly and bracing himself before he has the chance to contemplate why.

“Okay, calm down, honey, this isn’t a big deal,” Bitty says, apparently sensing Jack tense from miles away. “I just… I ran into Charlie today. And Liam, too.”

Jack goes from mildly concerned to just plain curious. “Uh, did something happen?”

Bitty laughs at that. “Oh, you ridiculous moose. God, no. _But_ I did find out they’re engaged,” he says, sounding amused. “How crazy is that?”

“Wow,” is all Jack manages to say at first. “Wow, good for them.”

“Yeah, right?” Bitty says. “I mean, I guess it all worked out, huh?”

Jack snorts, thinking about how big of an understatement that is. “Can you imagine if you had actually ended up dating him?”

Bitty snorts back. “Are you kidding? He could never compete with you,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry I ever made you believe otherwise.”

“Hey, no,” Jack says immediately, feeling defensive. “No, bud, you don’t ever have to apologize for that.”

“No, you don’t understand. I lied to you. Before,” Bitty says, sounding tentative.

Jack frowns, sitting up against his headboard. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

On the line, Bitty sighs. “Remember I told you about that time me’n Charlie were talking about our top five people? I told you that I told him that you were my number two, right?”

Jack nods automatically, remembering this conversation vividly. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know why I had to filter that for you. I think maybe I was scared or embarrassed or something?” Bitty seems to catch himself rambling and takes a deep breath. “Anyway, what I really told him was that you were the number one most important person in my life, and I think that’s absolutely the truth.”

They’ve been together nine months, have been best friends for a lot longer, but Jack swears his heart still does a little stutter in his chest. His smile is stupidly huge and his cheeks almost hurt from it, but he pulls himself together enough to reply, “Well, that’s good, then, ‘cause I lied right back. I think I told you that you were my number two then, too.”

“Oh, honey, I sincerely thought you were only saying it back to be polite back then,” Bitty replies thoughtfully. “I couldn’t believe it.”

“Bud, I only hesitated because you asked me if you were second to Shitty,” Jack admits, chuckling. “Honestly, Shitty was sleeping in the next room, but he was the farthest thing from my mind in that moment. I legitimately completely forgot about him.”

Bitty laughs along with him. “So it’s funny how that worked out, too!”

“Oh, yeah. Hilarious,” Jack deadpans.

“Number one on the ice, number one in my heart,” Bitty says dreamily.

“And you wear my number all the time,” Jack points out. “So it’s accurate.”

“But sweetpea,” Bitty chides. “I’ve always worn fifteen.”

Jack groans. “You just want a cheesy one-liner, too!”

“So give me one,” Bitty challenges, and Jack shakes his head at the ridiculous boy he’s so in love with.

“Fine,” he eventually relents. “Number fifteen on the ice, but you’re my one and only.”

Bitty’s answering squeal and fit of giggles is so worth it.

They do hang up eventually, when Bitty starts basically yawning every word (which Jack found hopelessly adorable). Bitty leaves him with the promise that he’ll see him soon, and Jack takes his word for it.

He hasn’t quite wrapped his head around the fact that his best friend— his boyfriend— who is very probably the love of his life will be closer than he’s ever been in over two years, but he knows he has plenty of time to prepare and even more time to get used to it. Mostly, he’s excited. To be near Bitty, to have his constant warmth in his life. To wake up next to him more often, and then hopefully, someday, every single day. To get the rest of his life started, he thinks as he pictures the small velvet box he’s had stuffed away at the back of his closet ever since he came back from Montreal.

But there’s no rush. They have plenty of time.

Jack has a hard time going to sleep that night, but only because his mouth keeps slipping into an uncontrollable grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue has taken so many months only because I had so many ideas that I couldn’t piece together for some reason. I ended up starting over completely three separate times and then getting stuck each time, so this is kind of a remix of all three tries. In the end, I just tried to make sure to resolve all of the conflicts in the story and tie up all the loose ends. Hopefully this is worth the super duper long wait (even if it is kinda brief), and if it isn’t, thank you so much for reading/following this story anyway! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> So that’s it for these boys (in this universe, at least)! I’d really love hear what you guys think! I’m thinking about writing more further into their future, and I have a little extra blurb about the day that Jack came out that I might use for something, so please let me know in the comments if that’s something you might want. And a huuuuuuuge thank you again to @notenoughgatorade for helping me out with this!! You are seriously the greatest <3


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